


The Medium

by Wizard95



Category: Captain America (Movies), Supernatural, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angels, Demons, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ghost Posession, Ghosts, M/M, Maria is the aunt, Seeing and Hearing Ghosts, Teen Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2018-03-08 06:41:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3199286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wizard95/pseuds/Wizard95
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gale's life is everything but normal ever since he woke up on a hospital bed and was told both his parents had passed away (and that he had almost shared the same unfortunate destiny). His only friend is a witty non-living bloke and his only family his aunt. When he believes his world cannot be turned upside-down even more, he bumps into Sam and Dean Winchester.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags will continuously be updated as the story develops!

                                                            [](http://es.tinypic.com?ref=34f019l)

 

 

 

Gale opens his eyes.

 

Darkness.

 

He feels strange, and for him, feeling strange is bad. Because it’s the 'I don't quite remember the last twenty-four hours' strange. And if he doesn’t remember the last twenty-four hours, there’s only one explanation to all of it.

 

He smells dust, a distant rotten-like stink and the scent of fresh roses. There's only one place you can smell those simultaneously. Want to make a guess?

 

"Oh, geez..." he groans when he attempts to get on his feet and his joints strongly reject his decision. How long has he exactly been lying on there?

After a couple of minutes he regains movement of both legs and proceeds to stumble towards where he thinks the exit is. The negative vibe is in the air and he wants to leave it behind as soon as possible. He can tell by the colour of the sky and the thick air that it hasn't been long since it got dark. Half an hour maybe.

 

He leaves the graveyard while avoiding looking around and keeps walking till he reaches the main road, he slips a hand into his trousers' pocket and lets out a sigh of relief when he touches the familiar leather that his wallet is made of.  
         

 

He stops the first taxi that he sees, and as the driver pulls up right in front of him, he clenches his teeth at the sight of no more than one dollar before his eyes. He returns the wallet to his pocket as he gestures for the driver to continue his way.

 

"You bastard..." he curses, and just as he's about to begin walking, his phone buzzes in one of his pockets. All the anger disappears when he reads the words 'Aunt Maria' on the screen of the device. He hasn't checked but he knows he must at least have twenty lost calls from her, and he knows better than to let that number increase...

 

"Hello?" he answers, and the first thing he hears is his aunt letting out a sigh of relief, although he knows the relief won't last long.

 

" _Gale William Hill!_ " she exclaims, and Gale is putting the phone next to his ear again after a couple of seconds when he's certain she's done with the screaming. " _I want a location. Now_ " she orders calmly, and Gale's always been more terrified of the calm her. _Just like mom_.

 

"I'm alive and unhurt, you don't need to-"

 

" _Not for much longer. Lo-ca-tion._ "

 

"E Houston street and 1st Avenue, I'm at Peretz Square bus stop" he answers resigned, and as expected, the silence that comes after his words confirms his aunt’s asking herself what the heck he has been doing so far from home. Well, he’s asking himself the same question.

 

" _Don't you move, I'll send someone for you_." she finishes the call after those words, and Gale curses once more. Why hadn't he been cleverer? He could've just ignored the call, taken out the battery or something. It would've taken ages for him to get home on foot, yeah, but his aunt is never home so he could've at least changed his dusty and sweaty clothes for clean ones and pretended he hadn't been doing anything like sleeping in a cemetery.

 

Well, frankly, he might actually have the chance to avoid meeting Maria looking like that. If she’s sending 'someone for him' that means she’s busy enough to come and pick him up herself, doesn’t it? He hopes so, as he makes his way to the bus stop.

 

He’s already accustomed to those black vehicles so he simply gets in without question when his personal 'taxi' pulls up in front of him. He’s certain he’s once again going to be told off (he also knows he deserves it, even though any of it has technically been his fault), and he’s also certain it will be much worse if Maria sees him all dirty-looking in the first place. So he prays to have the opportunity to arrive home and have a shower before having to meet her. Maybe she’s still at work, right? She spends a lot of time at work.

 

But then again, when has been luck on his side? Yeah, pretty much _never_. He wasn't holding up too much hope anyway. When the driver (a man he has never seen before) pulls over and he gets out of the car, the colour drains from his face.

 

"Stark Tower?" he frowns, not believing his eyes. The man on the suit leads him into the building while he internally wonders if there’s any possibility to avoid the imminent situation.

 

He knows who his aunt works for. Well, sort of. She’s always very hush-hush about it all and _he_ , has his own personal problems to care about. But he knows Maria’s related to all kind of people, among those people, some very famous fellows that had kind of... saved the planet?

 

He’s never asked about it, as mentioned before, he has his own business to mind (and Maria isn’t really eager to tell him about her daily experiences at work either). However, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t watch TV every now and then.

 

At the moment, though, the only thing he’s worried about is the track of dirt he’s leaving behind him on the shiny porcelain. He considers taking his phone out and calling Maria to ask her what all is about, but by then, the man stops in front of a lift and patiently waits for him to enter it. He does as requested, and frowns when the man doesn’t move from his spot.

 

The doors start closing before his eyes.

 

"Aren't _you_ getting in...?" by the time he pronounces the words, he’s alone. Surrounded by white shiny walls. He bites his lower lip as he stares at the reflection on his right. He could perfectly pass for a homeless person with those dirty trousers. His white sweatshirt isn't white anymore and the shirt he’s wearing on top of it smells of smoke and sweat. And he’s at Stark Tower, probably (he wishes so much to be wrong) about to meet Tony Stark.

 

"Good evening Mr Hill" a sudden British voice startles him. He turns around waiting to see someone there, as accustomed, but he’s all alone.

 

"Well… Are you going to show yourself or what?" he blurts out, not sure if he’s really willing to see anyone in such a reduced space without exits.

 

"Sir?" the voice replies, and Gale can’t help but smile. This is a really good-mannered one isn’t he?

 

His thoughts go back to his aunt and the billionaire also known as Iron Man when the lift doors open. A huge room that looks like a VIP suite of a prestigious five-star hotel appears before his eyes. Immediately, the sound of mixed conversations makes its way to his ears, and he doesn't dare to move.

 

How many people are there exactly?

 

"Mr Hill is here, Sir" the voice speaks again, and Gale understands then, he has been talking to a machine.

 

He peeks out the lift.

 

"Oh, dear Lord..." he swallows nervously. Oh no, this is much worse than Tony Stark only.

 

He considers pressing the button and going back to the first floor and out of the building, but there’s no button to be pressed, and his aunt is already there, glaring at him.

 

He waves, awkwardly.

 

"Hi" he greets with a grin, but Maria doesn't look happy at all. Gale doesn’t blame her. But he doesn’t blame himself either, no. Neither of them are the guilty ones here.

 

"Hi?" she repeats, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him out of the lift quite noisily. " _Hi?_ " And suddenly silence reigns in the room. With the corner of his eye Gale spots people looking their way and curses internally once again. Not only has he appeared looking disastrous in front of his aunt but also a bunch of worldwide known (super?) heroes, and he’s about to be told off in front of them as well. _Spectacular_.

 

“Where have you been?” she asks without breaking the intimidating eye contact, obviously not giving a damn about their audience, but then again, she’s not the stinking one here.

 

And now comes the part that he sucks at. Lying.

 

“I-I… was at… um…” he stammers, and if being ripped in two by a killing glare were physically possible, he would be nothing but pieces of meat already.

 

Then, a familiar voice says next to him:

 

«At the police station. You were mugged»

 

Honestly, he has no idea why he repeats the words, but it’s done and he can’t go back so he has no other option than to go on with it.

 

“Mugged?” Maria lifts her eyebrows and Gale knows he hasn’t tricked her. “Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

 

«Your battery died»

 

“My battery-”

 

“If your battery had died then I would’ve been instantly directed to the mailbox and that didn’t happen. You weren’t answering your phone, _where were you?_ ” she interrupts him.

 

«Oops, my bad»

 

Gale closes his eyes and grits his teeth. He glances at his left where Jeremy is standing, pale and lugubrious, as usual. The dead returns him the look as he shows him an amused grin.

 

“William, I’m waiting” he turns again to Maria and lets out a sigh. _William_. It’s no use trying to lie to a person like her. She’s a highly-trained spy, and she’s angry.

 

«Uh-oh… someone’s in trouble»

 

“Can we _not_ do this here?” Ignoring Jeremy once again, he pleads to the blue-eyed woman, who smirks and crosses her arms on her chest. Just when she’s about to (he’s certain) continue interrogating him (and embarrassing, on purpose, Gale is sure), a barefoot blonde woman approaches them.

 

«Well… What do we got here?» Jeremy appears on his right now.

 

“You must be Gale” she smiles at him and extends her arm, as if unaware of his filthy aspect.

 

“I am” he half extends his arm to shake hers, but pulls it back when he notices the big difference that the colour of his palm is in contrast with the white office suit she’s wearing. “Better not to…”

 

She lets out a fresh laugh and intertwines her arm with Maria’s, who has (fortunately) stopped trying to perforate his crane with her glares.

 

“Will you join us?” the blonde invites him, pointing at the little reunion that’s taking place around that little table full of all kind of snacks. His stomach answers the question for him, and he coughs, hoping nobody has heard the noise.

 

“Thank you very much, but I think it’s better if I go home to-“

 

“You are not leaving my vision field” his aunt cuts him off.

 

«Sir, yes, sir!» Jeremy salutes like a soldier on his right.

 

“Shut up already!” he exclaims without noticing, shooting a killing glance to Jeremy and then turning surprised to his aunt. “Oh, no! Not you, I was- I didn’t-“ he gestures nervous with his hands. He was what? ‘He was just shouting at the dead person standing on his right that they couldn’t see nor hear but he could’?

 

“All right, I think Tony won’t mind lending you some clean clothes” the woman in white places both her hands on his shoulders and guides him to a nearby door and into a wardrobe while he feels all eyes on him. “Pick something, bathroom is that door right there” she points at the end of the large corridor and pats his shoulder.

 

“I’m all right, really, I don’t want to cause any trouble…” he turns around, completely embarrassed. He can’t deny he is eager to take a shower and get rid of… anything that might have been stuck to his clothes since hours, but he feels intrusive doing it in a stranger’s house. And it isn’t just a stranger. It’s _the_ stranger! He’s now surrounded by nothing else but Tony Stark’s expensive suits!

 

“Take your time” she closes the door behind her ignoring his words and leaving him alone in the huge room. Jeremy re-appears in front of him without delay.

 

«Did you see that dude with the metallic arm? That’s some impressive shit…» he comments before starting to wander around, appreciating the elegant clothes and running his hand _through_ them. «I’d say your aunt has some good contacts, doesn’t she? Have you considered applying for the same job? I mean, it can’t be that hard to get hired with her there pulling a few strings, huh? Look at this!» He’s now looking at some watches, his mouth wide open. Gale silently walks up to him, feeling the impulse to strangulate his friend. Pity he can’t, he has no other way to relieve is anger.

 

“I thought… I had told you, to stop doing it” he says, clenching his jaw and breathing in and out in order not to be heard from outside. It won’t be a plus if they hear him talking alone after that horrible first impression.

 

Jeremy continues poking around, ignoring him. But he is _not_ going to get away with it, not this time. “We had a deal, and you broke it.”

 

Upon hearing the words, the dead finally turns around to face him, this time with a serious expression.

 

«It wasn’t me» He answers.

 

“ _What?_ ” Gale laughs. “Oh, so now there’s suddenly another- another-” He hates the word ‘ghost’ and so he constantly tries not to use it, but he can’t find any synonym at the moment. “…somebody’s done it and it wasn’t you, that’s what you’re saying?” he blurts out, feeling an imminent headache.

 

«Yes. That’s what I’m saying» Jeremy crosses both arms on his chest. «Is it so hard to trust my word?»

 

“Let me think… um… _yes_. Why would I trust _you_? You’re dead. It’s ended for you. Unless of course, you take my body, in which case you could practically live again. Hang on…”

 

«Gale…»

 

“Of course! Have you shared the secret with one your dead pals? Are you taking turns now? That’s fantastic! Shall I start charging you guys?”

 

«Gale!»

 

“What?! Don’t give me that look…” He points at the almost colourless image in front of him. Jeremy had been a really handsome guy when alive, and even after dead, he’s pretty stunning. But Gale is not going to back up now.

 

«Do you really think this is the right time to have this conversation?»

 

“I just want to know…” he steps closer. “… _what the fuck_ you did with me, and why among _all_ places you had to abandon me in a graveyard. Do you think I like being like this?! I don’t! And I would very much appreciate not to wake up surrounded by tombs in the middle of the night!” he tries to keep his voice steady and low, but fears he won’t be able to do it for much longer.

 

«You were left in a cemetery?» The dead questions intrigued.

 

“No, Jeremy, I just fancied a nap with my friends of the underworld. Of course I was left in a cemetery! Why else would I be covered in dirt?!”

 

«Yes, about that, I have no sense of smell anymore but I don’t need it to tell you stink. You better go in there and shower before they start wondering what’s taking you so long, if you know what I mean…» he lifts his eyebrows, and Gale frowns.

 

But Jeremy is right, it really isn’t the time to discuss the matter.

 

Besides, even _he_ is growing tired of the smell emanating from his body.

 

Letting out a sigh, he decides that for a couple of hours he can postpone it.

 

Honestly, he’s exhausted. He’s tired of the ghosts, of seeing them, of hearing them, of dreaming with them. In the last week, he’s sure he hasn’t been able to sleep two consecutive hours without waking up panting and finding up a dead standing right next to him.

 

He doesn’t know what attracts _them_ , he has no idea, but they seem to know. Jeremy for example, he had once mentioned there was something different with him. He had mentioned the word ‘aura’, his aura is apparently shinier than other people’s.

 

Gale doesn’t know what to believe anymore. His lifestyle has changed long ago and he isn’t sure if it’s going back to normal. Whatever the definition for that is.


	2. Chapter 2

It takes him more time to pick the clothes than to have the shower, and even though he looks for the less expensive-looking shirt and trousers he can find (while Jeremy insists that he should take the opportunity and try an expensive suit on) they still look pretty luxurious.

 

Finally clean, once dressed and in front of the large mirror of the even larger bathroom, Gale stares at his reflection. The black bags under his eyes that have become part of him already are even more noticeable now that all dirt and dust has been removed from his skin. It’s more than obvious that he suffers from insomnia and his aunt has mentioned the matter a couple of times already since he has moved in with her. Asking him, suggesting and every other time almost ordering him to see a doctor, all to which Gale would refuse and say it has been like that for ages and that it isn't a big trouble. She has stopped insisting after so many failed tries.

 

He and Maria have never had a really close relationship. She isn’t a person very fond of family reunions and he’d only see her in special dates like Christmas or Thanksgiving. One day, though, he woke up in a hospital room and was told his parents were gone. Forever. And apparently he had been really close to following the same path.

 

Maria received him in her house. Well, flat. Even though it wasn’t really big and it only had one room. Even when she was obviously accustomed to living alone, to not having any kind of distractions or responsibilities. She’s his family. The only one he has left, as a matter of fact, and he is infinitely thankful for her hospitality, regardless if she’s doing it for the simple reason of feeling obliged to.

 

Although, if he’s to be honest, he doesn’t really feel he’s being a burden. That probably has to do with the fact that he hardly ever spends more than thirty consecutive minutes with his aunt. If she feels he’s a burden she doesn’t demonstrate it at all.

 

He’s okay with the distance, he’s never been sociable and the only person he practically talks with is Jeremy. Sad, yes. Pitiful, yes. But nobody has to know. In fact, _nobody knows_ , therefore, nobody feels bad for him. Which is good, he doesn’t have to pretend in front of anybody. His life can be a piece of shit, yeah, maybe, but uniquely to _his_ eyes.

 

When his stomach attempts to start a conversation with him, he decides to finally exit the room. And once again, the silence reigns in the suite when he makes his way out and silently closes the door behind him.

 

Were all those people determined to make him feel uncomfortable?

 

He waits there in an awkward manner until the barefoot woman from earlier smiles at him and gestures for him to get closer. His aunt is sitting next to a guy whose face doesn’t really ring a bell, and fortunately she doesn’t look as angry anymore.

 

He knows who the blonde dude on her left is (he can’t claim to be an American if he didn’t), and he knows which one’s Tony Stark, but he isn’t sure about the rest. The ginger woman he’s seen her a couple of times with Maria, but he can’t recall her name…

 

“Join the party! We don’t bite” she invites him, and Gale obliges himself to smile too, because even though he feels like he would pass out right there any moment, he doesn’t want to be rude.

 

He takes a sit next to the guy with the metallic arm (while he pretends he isn’t impressed by it) and not sooner has he sat down than he starts feeling it hasn’t been a good idea. Maybe the spot was empty for a reason. Something inside of him makes him regret it.

 

“Go ahead and eat boy ‘cos I’m starting to feel miserable just by looking at you” Tony says.

 

“Thanks.” He answers awkwardly. “For the clothes, too.” He stammers.

 

“Ah, those…” The billionaire takes a sip of whatever his glass is containing (probably very expensive and imported scotch or something the like) “Keep ‘em.”

 

“What?” the boy blurts out surprised, gaining everyone’s attention again. “I-I mean, I can’t, of course I’ll-“

 

“Leave it son.” Steve Rogers interrupts, and Gale has to look at him and blink a couple of times, because well… he’s… handsome. Fine, ‘handsome’ doesn’t even begin to describe it, but he can’t think of another adjective at the moment. Stunning? Breath-taking? He thinks that he would very much love to spend hours looking into those beautiful blue eyes if he were given the opportunity.

 

He notices he’s been staring when the dude with the metallic arm glances his way. He swallows and sets his eyes on the bowl full of fruits that rests on the table and from which he takes an apple seconds later. He bites it and relaxes when the group stops centring their attention on him and keep discussing whatever they were discussing before his interruption.

 

He’s heard some weird technological terms and words that sound like a foreign ancient language that could only be found in a fairy-tales book, and honestly, if he hadn’t been “kidnapped” for a day and weren’t so exhausted, he’s pretty sure he would find all of it interesting. But he can’t help it, he’s dozing off and their voices are like a peaceful lullaby that invites him to fall in Morpheus’s arms.

 

 

A couple of hours have passed. Gale hasn’t opened his eyes for at least thirty minutes now, resting his head on his hand, and his elbow on the arm of the sofa.

 

He wonders where Jeremy is and what he’s doing, since he hasn’t appeared in a while. He also starts wondering if all he said earlier is true. If it really wasn’t him the one who had got into his body and if so, who it had been. And he really hopes Jeremy was joking, because he’s not prepared to deal with-

 

“ _Gale?_ ”

 

He opens his eyes, startled.

 

“What? I wasn’t sleeping” he instantly blurts out, and notices there are less people in the room. The ginger and the man that was sitting next to her are gone. The barefoot woman is gone.

 

He also notices there’s no Maria in the room. And so he glances to his right and to his left, but his aunt’s nowhere to be seen. Before he can speak the question, it’s already been answered by the curly-haired man sitting next to Captain America. Gale’s pretty sure he’s been called by the name ‘Bruce’ earlier…

 

“Hill had to leave. Something came up at work” he explains kindly.

 

Gale frowns. What? She left? When had she left? He hasn’t been sleeping, she can’t have left without him noticing! Why has she left him there? Had he really fallen asleep there? No, he wouldn’t…

 

“Well, when is she coming back?” he asks to the same man while he pulls himself on his feet. He has no money left, how is he supposed to return home?

 

“Who knows?!” Stark exclaims out of the blue at the same moment a yawn escapes Gale’s mouth without permission.

 

 

“I think it’s time we went home” Steve gets on his feet, and the guy with the metallic arm (whatever his name is, Gale is sure he hasn’t heard his voice since he sat up there next to him) does the same.

 

“Yes, please, and do take the panda with you” Stark dismisses them with a hand gesture, and it takes Gale a couple of seconds to understand he’s referring to him.

 

“Actually, Gale, you _should_ come with us” Steve now turns to him. To the confused and sleepy him, who again has to blink a couple of times to get accustomed to such beautiful features.

 

“I… I should?” he says as he lets out another yawn. Was… was Captain America inviting him…? “I mean- I will appreciate if you could drive me- Or you can just give me some money, I will pay you back of course-“ The blonde’s laugh cuts him off.

 

What is he laughing at?

 

Oh, wait.

 

Of course.

 

 _Him_.

 

“No, I meant your aunt sort of let me in charge of you” he explains, as Gale frowns confused.

 

_She did… what?_

 

Another yawn escapes his mouth without permission.

 

_Damn it!_

“You should really get some sleep, that’s what you should do” Stark adds, and Gale thinks he almost sounds like his father. “What’s the problem? Anxiety? Nightmares?”

 

“Tony…” the curly-hairedone warns, and he feels he’s missed something.

 

He instinctively lifts both hands to his cheeks. He knows he’s pale in first instance but he doesn’t resemble a Panda bear, or does he?

 

He’s about to open his mouth to object to it, but when he looks up to Tony, a cold shiver runs through his body at the sight of a pair of lifeless eyes looking right at his.

 

He still can vaguely see the AC/DC shirt of the billionaire through the pale colours of the dead (whom he has never encountered before).

 

His brain has momentarily stopped working, he can’t move, while he’s stared at. Paralyzed. There’s something he doesn’t like about this one. A menacing vibe seems to be coming out of him. And he wonders… could this one be his ‘kidnapper’?

 

“Let’s get going, then” Steve Rogers steps in between, and he’s snapped back from his reverie. Gale’s view of the ghost is completely blocked and he internally thanks Captain America for it. Letting out a sigh and ignoring the (probable) odd look the metallic-arm guy on his left is giving him, he turns on his heels and concentrates on not tripping and falling as he follows the tall blonde to the lift.

 

 _Don’t turn around_. He tells himself, but it’s inevitable once he enters the elevator. Staring at the wall isn’t an option, he’s had enough embarrassment earlier and he still hasn’t recovered to have another dose of it.

 

So when he turns around and his eyes lock with the ghost’s again, his breath gets stuck in his throat. Tony has already disappeared from sight as the doors of the lift start closing. And when it starts moving, Gale prays to get to the first floor without any other apparition.

 

Except maybe Jeremy’s. A familiar face –his best friend’s face- would surely calm his raging heart at the moment. Where was he anyway?

 

“So… Gale” Rogers’ voice breaks the silence. Gale turns to his left where he and the other dude are. He tries to answer with a ‘yes?’ but all that comes out is a nervous whimper and he hates himself for that.

 

A pair of curious –almost concerned- eyes examine him, and he shifts uncomfortably on his weight and lets out a relieved sigh when the doors of the lift open and the lobby appears before his eyes.

 

“I believe we haven’t been properly introduced” Rogers continues, as he makes his way out of the elevator. Gale follows, a little bit tense.

 

“I know who you are” he answers, examining his surroundings to make sure the coast is clear. The soft and harmonious laugh that follow his words make him lose track of his thoughts though, and he stops walking to direct his attention to Captain America once they’re outside of the building, almost forgetting about his companion, who stands behind him.

 

 _I don’t think I’ve heard about_ him _though_. He thinks as he shots a furtive glance at the long-haired man, who does the same, just with less interest and scrutiny. But the boy isn’t about to blame him, at all. Gale himself isn’t overly fond of having two babysitters, he can’t imagine how the men are feeling, and that only makes his cheeks turn red.

 

He isn’t fifteen anymore, what makes Maria think he needs to be watched over by two probably-highly-trained-in-spionage-and-martial-arts-and-whatnot agents of the USA government?

 

 _Remember you disappeared for twenty-four hours and returned to meet her covered in dirt. And in addition, she didn’t get the truth out of you, who knows what kind of crazy theories she has as to your whereabouts._ A voice says inside his head. _Of course she’s having you watched._

 

Yeah, he has been a little bit irresponsible –well, technically _he_ hasn’t- but it isn’t the first time it happens. Just the first time Maria actually notices it. It’s never lasted for such a long time, no more than a couple of hours and he regains consciousness, totally lost in some part of the city that isn’t the one he remembers lastly being in (sometimes surrounded by people concerned about a teenager suddenly blacking out). And Jeremy is normally there to ease his confusion.

 

 _Fine_ , maybe his aunt isn’t being completely irrational about it. If he had a nephew and couldn’t reach him for a whole day, he’d also have him watched.

 

“Gale” the voice brings him back. He looks at Steve, a little bit startled. Has he been talking to him? “Are you okay?”

 

Gale notices the guy with the metallic arm is nowhere to be seen. Before he can ever so much as comment on it, a 4x4 pulls up in front of both of them and Gale catches sight of something shiny resting on the wheel, reflecting the lights of the lamps on the sidewalk.

 

Steve keeps frowning at him, concern painted all over his face.

 

“You seem a little bit out of yourself” the blonde adds, and Gale can’t help but to chuckle.

 

“You’d be surprised…” he mumbles.

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing.” He lets out a sigh. Sometimes he really feels like talking to someone about it. A _living_ person. But then he pictures himself being imprisoned in a psychiatric hospital and all desire to share his frightening experiences vanishes completely.  “Nothing…” he repeats, almost inaudible, putting on the seatbelt and shutting his eyes.

 

_Please. Please, I just want a calm night. Just this once, I deserve it._

 

*                   *                  *

 

Gale wakes up to his heart bumping uncontrollably on his chest, his breath accelerated, and his forehead sweaty.

 

He panics.

 

What is that smell of cologne? He doesn’t wear perfume.

 

Why is the air so cool? The air conditioning is never switched on when he’s home.

 

He opens his eyes, but the only thing they meet is darkness. When he attempts to get on his feet, he notices that he can’t move. He can’t move to his sides, he can’t move his head without it colliding into thick walls of what smells like… wood?

 

He tastes a sour liquid in his mouth as he puts the pieces of the puzzle together one by one. Smell of cleanliness. Cold. Darkness. Reduced space. Wood.

 

He wants to scream out for help, but not a single sound comes out of his mouth. He can’t even manage cries of desperation, although the tears are already running down his cheeks.

 

It seems there isn’t enough air to breathe, because from a moment to another he’s hyperventilating. Asphyxia. He’s going to die.

 

He’s going to die of asphyxiation because he’s been buried alive.


	3. Chapter 3

When he opens his eyes and the air doesn’t smell neither like wood nor that strong fragrance of cologne anymore, he almost lets out a whimper of relief. He would have, if he had been able to breathe properly.

 

His heart is pounding loudly, and when he sits up a frown makes its way to his face. He isn’t going to die. All right, that’s good. But where is he now?

 

He doesn’t dare to let his guard down and stands up from what seems to be a bed, and narrows his eyes to sort out the menacing shapes that surround him.

 

This isn’t his aunt’s apartment.

 

“Gale?” somebody calls from beside, and he would’ve fallen pretty nastily on the floor if it hadn’t been for that strong grip on his wrist that had prevented him from it.

 

He shakes the hand off and steps away from the stranger.

 

“Hey… hey it’s me” the voice still sounds too close for Gale’s comfort, and he takes another step back.

 

“You… who?” he breaths out, almost inaudible.

 

His freaking heart won’t stop beating like crazy.

 

“Steve” the voice answers, and Gale tries to even out his breathing, because he’s starting to feel dizzy.

 

“Steve who?” he questions agitated, still completely lost. It isn’t a ghost, which is good. Ghosts can’t touch him.

 

When the lights are suddenly switched on, Gale has to narrow his eyes, his pupils not accustomed to the luminosity. Bright-blue is the first thing they meet when he can focus normally again. Bright-blue, concerned pair of orbs examining him from head to toe.

 

“Steve Rogers. I work with your aunt, Maria” the male explains, a meter away, not wanting to get any closer or invade Gale’s personal space without permission once again. The boy looks pretty shaky and disconcerted. “You came home with me and Bucky a couple of hours ago, fell asleep on the ride here” he adds when Gale finally seems to be able to process the information.

 

He’s soaked in sweat.

 

Another couple of seconds pass until he regains his capacity to talk.

 

“Oh…” he mumbles, his eyes examining the perimeter in search for undead people. Then he swallows, relieved, because there are apparently none. He does notice though, he effectively _was_ lying on a bed. “Yes…” he continues, as Captain America eyes him worried. “Steve…” Was he lying on Steve’s bed?

 

“Do you want to come and take a seat?” the blonde offers with a gentle smile, gesturing to the king-sized bed.

 

A seat… Yes, he can take a seat. Going back to sleep… that’s a whole different story.  

 

“Sure” he agrees, but doesn’t manage to move from his spot, which seems to unease the American blonde even more.

 

_Get yourself together, Gale._

 

He lifts his hand and dries the sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt.

 

Or Tony Stark’s t-shirt.

 

Oh, _right_. It’s _his_ t-shirt now.

 

Steve is following his every move and Gale shifts uncomfortably on his weight under the blonde’s gaze. He steps closer and sits on the edge of the bed, the silence is unbearably awkward and Gale is incredibly self-conscious. He doesn’t need to look into a mirror to know he pretty much looks like a ghost himself, and somehow, he feels more miserable and pitiful-looking beside the stunning Captain America with his prince-charming look.

 

He clears his throat.

 

“Could you… uh… sir…” _Oh my god_ , _you are such an idiot Gale_. “Get-get me a glass of water?” he manages to ask, settling his eyes on the roof, on the cover of the bed and on the wardrobe against the wall, but not on Steve.

 

He thinks he hears a muffled laugh from him, but doesn’t turn to face him.

 

“Of course” The man exits the room and Gale can finally even out his breathing. He inhales deeply, managing to calm his raging heart, and a soft scent of manly deodorant fills his lungs.

_That was such a_ horrible _nightmare_. He shivers at the thought of waking up one day and finding out he’s been imprisoned inside a coffin. He doesn’t even find it odd, given the world of insanity he lives in.

 

But hey, he should cheer up a bit, there aren’t any dead nearby. That’s definitely something to be happy about. This must be the first night in quite a while he is capable of sleeping without any of them lurking around. But then again, he did wake up due to that nerve-wracking nightmare, did he not…

 

“Here you go” the voice startles him, and he blushes when he stands up and ends up making a bigger mess, for the glass of water Steve had been holding is now on the floor due to _his_ great silliness, and the man’s clothes are completely soaked.

 

“I’m sorry!” he exclaims, extending his hand, reaching for Captain America’s wet sweatshirt but then withdrawing it because _you can’t simply reach and fucking touch the dude!_

 

Damn it, couldn’t he make a little bit of noise when entering?

 

“It’s okay, it’s okay Gale…” Steve is trying to calm him down, but he won’t calm down. Because he’s in _Steve’s_ house, in _Steve’s_ room, he was sleeping on _Steve’s_ bed (he wants to think that Steve was watching a football match on TV and that he didn’t wake him up in the middle of the night because of a freaking nightmare), and oh, now he’s dripped the glass of water _Steve_ kindly fetched for him all over _Steve’s_ clothes.

 

That has to be a whole new level of stupidity.

 

Had Jeremy been there, Gale is damn sure he’d be choking on his own tears of laughter.

 

He, on the contrary, is starting to get dizzy yet once more.

 

“I’m sorry! I just thought- I thought you were-“

 

He’s hyperventilating again, and Steve Rogers proceeds to pin him down by his shoulders on the bed, kneeling in front of him and obliging him to look into his eyes.

 

“Son, son, breathe… you hear me?”

 

He’s only eighteen years old, he’s never wanted to deal with anything so huge. Something he can’t control. There’s no escape from it, and he fears… What if one of these days, that nightmare comes true? What if… What if one of these days he isn’t able to come back to his body? He doesn’t know how it works, but what if that can _actually_ happen?

 

The tiniest of noises, the most subtle airstream slipping through the window always manages to make his hair stand on end at night. He thought he’d get accustomed to it, but he just doesn’t.

 

“Focus on my voice, Gale, my voice…”

 

Stumbling upon ghosts in broad daylight on his way to school is one thing, stumbling upon them at 2am while exiting the bathroom is a completely different issue.

 

 _But there aren’t any ghosts here right now_. He reminds himself, and realizes Steve Rogers is again looking at him with those concerned bright-blue eyes.

 

“That’s it… breath in…” he obliges.

 

_No ghosts._

 

He swallows. His throat is sore, he’s clenching his hands.

_Not even Jeremy is here. Nobody is here_.

 

 

 

Ten minutes have passed. Steve has taken a sit next to him on the bed and hasn’t said a word after Gale nodded a little gone at his ‘feeling better?’

 

He’s beginning to get sleepy and so he obliges himself to talk. He doesn’t want to go back to sleep. _He won’t_.

 

“I could’ve slept on the couch, you know…” he speaks, his throat no longer sore because Steve went back to the kitchen and brought a new glass of water some minutes ago when he was sure Gale wasn’t going to pass out in his absence.

 

“Yeah, but I felt you needed a good night sleep more than I did” Steve answers, gently patting him on the back, and Gale continues to be embarrassed by any contact with the blonde. “Besides, it’s not the only bed in the apartment, don’t worry about it.”

 

He can’t think of anything else to say. Or, well, he _can_ (I’m sorry my aunt obliged you to bring me here, I’m sorry I slept on the way –wait, did you fucking carry me all the way here?-, I’m sorry I’m using your bed, I’m sorry I woke you up and I’m sorry for splashing water on your face), but rather doesn’t want to. He feels so embarrassed he almost starts to wish somebody possesses him right now to stop being conscious about the whole situation.

 

“Does this happen often?” Steve’s soft voice asks from beside.

 

Gale frowns. Of course it happens often, can’t Steve see the bags under his eyes? Or as he remembers Tony Stark calling him earlier, his ‘panda’ look?

 

That’s bad, he can’t deny the fact that he doesn’t sleep more than ten hours per week and he feels this conversation is taking a turn that shouldn’t be taking. He wants to talk, he really wants to let it all out, but Steve Rogers happens to be a colleague of his aunt’s and he’s _not_ letting him think he needs psychiatric attention.

 

“I always had trouble sleeping when I was a kid…” he mumbles, and shifts uncomfortably on the bed, staring at his hands resting on his lap. “…guess it only got worse after the accident”.

 

Gale is almost expecting to hear what Steve says next:

 

“Have you seen a doctor?”

 

And he chuckles. Of course Maria has told him everything about the accident. And of course she’s talked Steve into convincing him to see a psychologist. ‘He’s got no friends, he doesn’t talk to me, maybe if you could talk him into getting help he’ll listen, you know, a man-to-man conversation’ he can almost hear his aunt’s voice in his head.

 

“I don’t _need_ a doctor.” He replies wearily, and hears Steve sighing quietly.

 

 _An exorcist maybe._ He tries not to shiver at the thought.

 

“You don’t need to be embarrassed about it” the blonde continues. “Even _I_ have nightmares every other night” he places a hand on Gale’s shoulder, who holds his breath for a moment but doesn’t lift his gaze.

 

And Gale thinks having nightmares ‘every other night’ is such a _huge_ privilege.

 

“I know what you’re going through, son…” Gale grimaces at the last word.

 

“I doubt it” he mumbles.

 

It seems Steve isn’t about to give up.

 

“How can you be so sure?” the blonde asks, Gale thinks he sounds a little bit defiant.

 

“’Cos I am.” he answers coldly, slightly annoyed. He’s already had this conversation uncountable times. He knows by heart the _I-know-how-you-feel-s_ , and _I-understand-your-pain-s_.

 

But they _don’t_. And it seems everyone he talks with end up saying the same things. As a result, Jeremy is about the only person he can actually have a conversation with. Well, when he says ‘ _person_ ’…

 

No, he’s not exaggerating. Attending school turned into hell after _the incident_. His classmates weren’t obviously really keen on spending their breaks with a dude scared of the air that had conversations with himself.

 

He got used to it, eventually. Used to spending his breaks locked into a bathroom cubicle, or in the most recondite corner of the library, or even up on the rooftop where he was sure nobody would bother nor pick up on him. Well, nobody _alive._ Napping in his free hours had become part of his daily routine.

The thought of dropping school crossed his mind more than once, of course (that one time he failed the chemistry exam because he was too scared to look to his right where a lady whose face was dripping blood was sitting next to him and he grabbed the wrong bottle and caused a mess by mixing the wrong substances; and that other time in gym when he nearly knocked off one of his team partners with the ball because he mistook him for a particularly-terrifying ex basketball player that had been hunting him for the last two days. Andrew had spent three hours in the infirmary. _He_ , had spent two weeks in detention despite his insistence that it had been completely accidental and unintentional.)

 

Well, at least he can’t say his school days are dull and boring as everybody else’s. He wishes he could get rid of that unwanted excitement, though, because it does nothing else but cause him trouble and get him into embarrassing situations.

 

He doesn’t want to think about all the times he’s been caught talking alone, or had everybody looking in his direction due to his sudden screams of shock when a dead appears before him whilst he’s leaving the classroom or walking through the corridors, asking for favours or sometimes just tormenting him without apparent reason.

 

If it happened in any other place, it wouldn’t matter as much, but he spends more time at school than anywhere else, and having everybody think he’s out of his mind 24/7 isn’t a nice feeling.

 

He’s accustomed to it, yes, but that doesn’t mean it feels well to be pointed and laughed at. Even the teachers think he’s a freak, he knows.

 

Overall then, Jeremy’s the only one who accompanies him through all the suffering and even though he sometimes laughs at him too, Gale is somehow relieved he doesn’t abandon him.

 

Actually, the possibility makes him nauseous. He’s got nobody but Jeremy, and when Jeremy one day decides to leave –wherever it is ghosts go to after wandering in the human world, he knows it’ll happen- he’ll be definitely lost.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my, I can't believe I updated this last February. I'm so so terribly sorry for being such an irresponsible writer. You probably don't even remember what this story is about... Anyway, have a 2.400-words chapter and a hug because I'm sorry!

 

Gale hasn’t felt so good in a long, long time. He frankly cannot remember the last time he felt like this. Like he just slept more than five hours in a row.

 

But then again, good things never last for long when it comes to him.

 

He doesn’t consider getting up when he hears a distant thud. It’s probably just Maria arriving from work, he thinks. He does jump out of bed when realization hits him: he’s not at home, that’s not his bed.

 

Letting out a groan, he spots his shoes resting on the carpeted floor, and puts them on. He’s slept in a stranger’s clothes and they are probably the most expensive clothes he’s ever worn.

 

He stinks a little bit too.

 

He’s gathering all his mental strength to go out of the room when there’s a sudden knock.

 

 _Oh gosh_. It’s Steve. Steve who carried him asleep, Steve whom he woke up in the middle of the night and had a panic attack in front of. Wait a minute… why can’t he remember anything after- can it be that- he fell-

 

“Gale?” Steve asks from the other side.

 

Gale takes a deep breath, walks to the door and opens it reluctantly.

 

Steve is standing there. Stunning as always (well, he’s only met him last night but he’d bet anything he’s always stunning). And he’s only wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. Fucking genetics!

 

“Sorry, I would’ve let you sleep more but Hill is picking you up in thirty, and I thought you’d want to have breakfast?” he points to his back, eyeing Gale quickly –as if to make sure he’s not going to suffer another emotional outburst- and turns around.

 

And he just nods and doesn’t speak. He follows Steve outside while eyeing the perimeter. It’s something that’s incorporated in him already. Assess the danger –if there is any- and then… well… deal with it?

 

He notices he’s standing in the middle of the living room when Steve clears his throat, and Gale takes a seat across him at the table.  


Waffles and orange juice.  


“Uh, you didn’t have to cook…” he feels obliged to apologize for so many things. Oh, he’s _so_ going to have a conversation with his aunt.

 

“It’s nothing. I like doing it, takes my mind off things” he picks up the newspaper resting on the table and Gale is grateful for it. It’s as if Steve knows exactly how nervous and awkward he feels being less than a metre away from him.

 

Then again, he’s always awkward. But Steve doesn’t know that. Doesn’t know him. Doesn’t know he’s a fucking freak.

 

He’s halfway through with the second waffle when Steve looks up, because there’s people coming into the house. It hasn’t even been fifteen minutes but he prays for it to be his aunt.

 

Well, his prayers never work anyway.

 

“Sometimes I believe you guys deliberately take turns to ruin my mornings” a male voice speaks energetically. Steve stands up from the table and Gale looks up. He eyes the new visitor while Steve gives him a brief hug. When he looks down to his plate, he’s startled by Bucky sitting down on the chair next to him. His forehead is sweaty and he’s wearing a sweatshirt that says ‘Brooklyn’ on it.

 

“Good morning” Gale says, biting his lower lip absent-mindedly because for some godforsaken reason, this man is also annoyingly beautiful and he doesn’t know why he didn’t notice it earlier. He wouldn’t be surprised if Bucky didn’t answer him, after all, he might even be mute?

 

“Morning” but he does, the curves of his mouth hinting a smile. His voice is deep and it makes Gale breathless for a second.

 

“Sam, this is Hill’s nephew, Gale.”

 

The young man stands up at the mention of his name, and something in Sam’s eyes tells him he’s heard of him before. He thinks he sees something that looks like empathy, but it’s gone in less than a split second, so he shakes his hand.

 

“Gale, pleased to meet you”

 

“Likewise” he answers, even though he’s starting to feel a little claustrophobic. He’s surrounded by three strangers that work with his aunt and probably know the story of his life and are visibly trying to look like they don’t feel infinite pity for him.

 

The usual drill when he meets new people who have met his aunt before.

 

“Breakfast?” Steve invites Sam.

 

“All right, if the chef insists” Sam sits down on the remaining chair on Gale’s left, and he feels cornered.

 

And for some reason his gut is telling him he won’t be seeing his aunt for a good couple of hours.

 

 

And he is right. It starts off pretty casually with normal questions about himself and high school, to which he replies with lies, as he normally does when being questioned. But for some reason, Sam appears to see right through it. Probably because he actually cares about the words coming out of his mouth. Probably because he will go to his aunt later with a diagnosis.

 

And Gale doesn’t even feel as bothered as he thought he’d be.

 

“So you’ve got nothing planned? I thought I heard Maria say you have an interest in art?” This time it’s Steve who speaks, and Gale is a little taken aback, he’s not sure if by those eyes or the actual comment. How long has it been since he actually devoted time to his hobbies?

 

Does he even remember what he likes to do?

 

“Yeah…” he mumbles, looking down to his lap and mentally slapping himself for it because he’s been trying so hard not to look like an angsty teenager. “I draw a little” he looks up again and his words almost get stuck in his throat because _you little shit_.

 

He sends a killer look to Jeremy, who is suddenly standing arm-crossed behind Steve, rising both eyebrows and frowning in a way in which Gale perfectly reads ‘well your life did take an unexpected turn didn’t it, having breakfast with bloody Captain America and his freaky metallic-arm friend what the fuck are you doing Gale’. All right, maybe not that specific, but he’s pretty sure J is puzzled by the scene.

 

“A little? That’s now what I’ve heard” Sam chimes in, and Gale takes a little longer to answer this time. Because Jeremy’s here to confirm his suspicions and he was really, kinda starting to like Sam.

 

«Don’t answer to that. Gosh, you look like shit»

 

He frowns. Really? He slept peacefully –well, as peaceful as it gets for him- for the first time in months and he looks like shit?

 

He really tries not to look at Jeremy while he paces around the table, occasionally stopping beside Bucky to inspect his left arm up-close, but he’s not having any luck with it because that Brooklyn hoodie covers most of it.

 

“Gale” Sam snaps him out of it.

 

“What?” he turns to him. “Oh, the drawing?” he slaps himself mentally again. He wants to tell Jeremy to fuck off, he’s getting on his nerves. As much as he appreciates his company sometimes, he just manages to set his teeth on edge on some others. And this is one of them.

 

Because for obvious reasons, he doesn’t want to look like an idiot in front of these three men, and when J is lurking around, he always ends up blurting stupid things or acting in silly ways.

 

“I’d love to see your work one day” Steve says, and it takes Gale a couple of seconds to understand what he’s referring to. He lets out a little laugh.

 

“Yeah, that’s not happening any time soon” he says.

 

“Why not?” a new voice chimes in. Gale turns to Bucky. And stares.

 

“Well because-“ he blurts out and stops mid-sentence. Not because Bucky is astonishingly handsome and he’s staring right back looking like he’s concerned, but because Jeremy is back beside him bringing him back to earth. Back to the real world. Back to _his_ world.

 

«What do they care anyway? You just met them twelve hours ago. And this is just your Aunt with another one of her tricks. Let’s get out of here»

 

 “Because I really have no time for drawings” he retorts quite abruptly, and he probably should be apologising for it a second later, but he’s just standing up from his chair instead. Because J is right, he’s always right. What on earth is he doing? Following their game like it’s going to do him any good? Like it’s going to change anything?

 

Steve is the one who stands up almost immediately and looks like he’s about to say something comforting that he doesn’t want nor need to listen to.

 

“Save it” Gale stops him before he can so much as open his mouth, holding his right hand up. “I really don’t need this” he gestures around, “whatever it is you’re trying to do. And you can tell _my aunt_ whatever you please, she just won’t rest until I hang myself out of pure desperation” this specific choice of words seems to shaken not only Steve but also Sam, who is now up and trying to reach out to him. He’s not paying attention to Bucky, but he thinks he just saw him clench his jaw.

 

Gale takes a step back and internally thanks Jeremy for standing in between them. Nothing will happen if Sam decides to come closer –except maybe he will get a little cold- but Gale appreciates the gesture and maybe even feels he’s not totally helpless or alone on this.

 

“I don’t need a psychiatrist or a psychologist or a therapist or _anything”_ he looks at Sam, _whatever it is you are_ , he adds in his head. The look that Steve is sending him only makes Gale want to punch something. He’s not a fucking charity case, he’s not in need for help, he doesn’t want help. They _can’t_ help. “I’m not twelve and _I don’t need babysitters_ ” he grits his teeth at the last sentence, and that is when Steve finally cuts him off.

 

“William, we aren’t babysitting you. Yes, your aunt did ask me to bring you here because she wasn’t going to make it home and didn’t want you to be alone. She’s genuinely concerned for you, and she’s a really close friend, and so are you.”

 

Gale tries really hard to ignore the fact that Steve just called him by his middle name. Something that only his mother used to do and that now only Maria does, occasionally, when she’s pissed at him. It feels too personal.

 

“I don’t have _friends_ ” he replies, spitting the word out, and then he regrets it, because that’s not what he told them when they asked earlier. He mentioned Colin, that blonde bookworm who always gets a 100% score on math exams, and Julia, the curly-haired librarian who always helps him find the quiet spots on the library. He also mentioned Joseph, who never misses the opportunity to knock him out with the ball when they’re playing volleyball. “And I don’t need them either” he feels the necessity to add, lifting his gaze.

 

Jeremy is enough. Jeremy is more than enough. Jeremy understands him. They will never understand. Never know, they can’t.

 

«She’s here» Jeremy says, it sounds more like a whisper than anything else. When the doorbell rings, Gale makes a beeline for it before anyone can make an attempt to grab his arm.

 

Maria sends him a quizzical look when he walks past her in an unfriendly manner, but doesn’t say a thing nor moves.

 

Jeremy follows up close as he walks to the lift, not saying a word.

 

And for once, Gale actually wants him to fill up the silence.

 

*        *        *

 

Maria doesn’t mention Bucky or Steve on the way home, let alone Sam. But the ride isn’t any less uncomfortable because of it. If anything, it’s unbearable.

 

And Gale can’t take it anymore.

 

“Stop doing this” his voice pierces the silence. Maria turns to him, resting her hands on the wheel, they’ve reached the traffic lights.

 

“Doing what?” she answers matter-of-factly. It makes Gale’s blood boil. For some reason, this is one of those days in which he wakes up on the wrong side of the bed. Maybe it’s because it wasn’t his bed. Although it was certainly far more comfortable than his.

 

“That.” He clenches his teeth and turns to her too, because he’d been looking through the window. If he’s going to fix this, he’s going to do it now once and for all. He can’t have his aunt following his every move, it’s going to make him end up in a mental hospital.

 

Which, he’s not saying he might not need it.

 

“We’ve talked about this, Gale…” she starts, but Gale cuts her off. No, not this time, this is not going to be the same conversation they’ve had over and over again.

 

“Yes we have, Maria.”

 

She’s clearly surprised by him addressing her by her name, which is good, because now he truly has her attention.

 

“Nevertheless you continue with your attempts to- to- I don’t know, what are you trying to do exactly? Prove a point?” she opens her mouth to retort, fight back, but Gale doesn’t let her. Jeremy is on the back seat, silent as if he wasn’t there. He hasn’t said a thing either, but doesn’t seem taken aback by Gale’s attitude. As if he knew this was coming. “I’ve been putting up with it but I’m _so_ done.”

 

With the corner of his eye, he sees the traffic light changing back to green, but Maria has her eyes fixed on him.

 

“It’s my life, aunt. It’s my life and my choices and I’m sorry mom and dad aren’t here, I’m sorry you had to take me in, I’m truly sorry” by now, Maria is really looking like she’s holding back tears, and Gale’s face is already wet. “But this is how I am, and I’m _not_ going to change. So take it or leave it”

 

The honks from behind are getting more annoying.

 

Maria reaches out and places an arm over his. Gale swallows down the bump in his throat.

 

“I just want to help” she says, her voice breaking up. And Gale just wants to hug her, he wants to hug her and tell her everything.

 

“Don’t.” He says instead, deadpan. “ _That_ will help me loads”.

 

After a biker drives past Maria’s open window and shouts a few obscenities at her, she withdraws her hand, sits straight, cleans her tears away with a hand, and drives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that was it! Hope you liked it :D and if any of you is actually waiting for the Winchesters to show up, don't fret, it's happening soon! (; As soon as I manage to write the next chapter anyway... I really hope it doesn't take me long. I'm sorry again! 
> 
> PS: As always, mistakes are on me~


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, have the longest chapter so far!

 

Gale doesn’t see Captain America for six more days. Or Bucky, or Sam, or anyone, for that matter. Maria checks in a few times a day, sounding tired but trying not to. Gale doesn’t ask. Because this is normal. She, being all mysterious about her job, not coming home for weeks but being kind enough to let Gale know she’s alive and kicking every four or five hours –or rather, making sure _he’s_ alive and kicking every four or five hours-.

 

Gale tries to keep out of trouble as much as he can -which is not much-. He failed a maths exam last Tuesday and there is an old lady following him everywhere asking him to look for some kind of diary buried under some kind of tree in some nearby house.

 

Gale usually doesn’t refuse to help, especially when they ask nicely. Mostly because they will all try to possess him once they realise it can be done. He doesn’t want to have them around longer than necessary because he doesn’t want to go through that, but he doesn’t have time to play Ghostbusters at the moment with the terrible marks he’s getting at school.

 

There hasn’t been any horrific incident this week. So far, at least. And he’s grateful for it. Those in particular leave him pretty shaken and manage to make his sleeping pattern even more unstable. _If that’s what you want to call a sleeping pattern_ , Jeremy had muttered. And he can’t have that, not now. He needs to sleep, and he needs to study and pass those exams.

 

«I was pretty good at maths, you know» Jeremy tells him one day, late evening, when he’s resting his head on the table, books and notebooks spread everywhere, not very far from having an outburst of repressed stress.

 

He just groans in response. He’s too tired to talk. He knows J is trying to distract him, he’s being doing so all afternoon.

 

«Go to sleep. It won’t do go looking like a zombie, you won’t be able to focus»

 

Gale snorts. The next exam is in less than twenty-four hours and he’s made no progress.

 

“I won’t be able to focus anyway.” He answers, closing his eyes and putting the book aside because drooling all over it is not among his plans for tonight. “I mean, I will fail whether I focus or not” he mumbles, almost unintelligible, already drifting out.

 

«Go to bed, Gale»

 

He’s already out.

 

*        *        *

 

When he wakes up and it’s pitch dark, he knows he has visitors. Because otherwise he wouldn’t have woken up. Trouble has arrived. It’s never really far away.

 

He lets out a groan when he stands up from the chair and straightens up his clothes. His neck is fucking killing him.

 

When one of the books on the table goes flying to the opposite side of the room, landing next to the bathroom door, Gale reaches for the closest light switch because he hates the combination ghosts + darkness.

 

He’s expecting to see the old lady of the book sending him a look of reprimand like grandmothers do, but is surprised to find a boy –can’t be more than ten years old- glaring at him with his hands on his hips, like he’s about to scold him.

 

Gale can’t find anything to say. What, has his house become a rendezvous point for stray ghosts? Of course it has.

 

“What do you want?” he asks, rather angrily. It’s the first time he has an encounter with a child, maybe the boy will leave if he’s enough of a douchebag. Dead or not, he’s still a toddler.

 

He would feel pity for him if he wasn’t too tired to care about anything.

 

«I lost Cricket» is the only thing the kid says, still frowning like Gale has personally bullied him at school.

 

Gale lets out a sigh and lets his head fall back, regretting it instantly, because _ow his neck_.

 

“Look, kiddo, I don’t have time to go looking for crickets” he says, rubbing his eyes with both his hands, tiredly.

 

«He’s not a Cricket!» the boy exclaims, and appears before him in the blink of an eye. Gale might or might have not taken a step back, off guard.

 

“Well, whatever he is, I’m not going to go out in the middle of the night to help you find him.” He says, decisively, looking around not so decisively. If only Jeremy was here… J can be truly intimidating when he’s up to it.

 

He, on the other hand, is normally _on the receiving end_ of the intimidation.

 

When he looks back to the boy, he’s not there anymore. Gale turns around alarmed, because it’s never this easy to scare them off. Correction: he has never actually succeeded in scaring one off.

 

“Comeback when it’s light and I’ll help you” he says, and it sounds a little like a question. Like he’s waiting for something to happen. Like he’s giving an alternative. Like he’s wishing this kid has no idea he can use his body like a puppet.

 

A few more seconds pass and Gale is starting to think the kid actually gave up, when the nearest window to him explodes –literally-, and some kind of supernatural wind sends him flying against the wall.

 

“Fuck…” he groans. He hates when they use their ghosty-superpowers.

 

His vision gets blurry for a moment, and when he tries to boost himself up with a hand on the floor, pieces of glass pierce through his hand. He hisses.

 

«Will you still not help me?» he hears somewhere near.

 

“NO!” he barks, so fucking done with this cockroach.

 

But then the lights start exploding too, and he’s surrendering:

 

“All right all right I will! Fucking stop it!”

 

He makes the fruit bowls on the middle of the table explode at last, and Gale grits his teeth when an apple lands on his lap.

 

He will never underestimate an underage ghost again.

 

The house falls silent, only the groans of pain coming out of Gale’s mouth filling the space.

 

“I think I broke something” he breathes out when he finally manages to stand steadily.

 

«No, that was me» retorts the little kid, that fucker, and Gale sends him a killer look and thinks that if he wasn’t already dead, he’d choke the life out of him with pleasure.

 

“It’s _not_ funny” he clenches his jaw and looks around. The place is a mess. Oh god, he’s not getting out of this one. Maria doesn’t even believe his excuses anymore. Maybe if he managed to take their smart TV somewhere far and claim they’d been robbed…

 

«Are you coming or not?» the toddler interrupts his thread of thought, he’s waiting by the door, looking menacing. Like he’ll actually break Gale’s neck if he doesn’t follow.

 

He can’t have any more things exploding into thin air though, so he obliges, maybe cursing Jeremy deep inside for always being absent when something important happens.

 

*        *        *

 

He can’t believe he’s being bossed around by a fucking six-year-old.

 

«It’s this way»

 

Gale dodges a fallen branch and lets out a ‘ _I fucking hate my life_ ’ when he walks right into Sebastian, as the toddler introduced himself a while ago.

 

“Don’t do that!” he hisses. It seems like he enjoys seeing Gale shudder. He’s a total tease and Gale swears he’s only helping him find the fucking dog because he wants to get rid of him as quick as possible.

 

«I’m not doing anything» he retorts, with that innocent voice that kids use to ask for a particular expensive item at a toy store. And Gale extends his hands and places them on the air, around the kid’s transparent and pale neck, as if he was strangling him. Sebastian isn’t looking, but he seems to have eyes on his nape and comes to a halt again. Gale ends up tripping and going through the colourless image again.

 

 

For another half hour, he follows Sebastian around, checking under cars and dodging inebriated people coming out of bars. The longer they walk, the darker it gets. And Gale is about to ask –politely- if Sebastian lets him go back and continue the search when he’s not practically walking asleep, when the ginger stops in front of what looks like…

 

“Oh, no. Forget it” Gale turns around, but Sebastian is already there, pointing at him accusingly.

 

«You say you’d help!»

 

And Gale feels his stomach shrinking because Seb is starting to look like a puppy himself.

 

“I’m _not_ going into a fucking graveyard. I don’t do that stuff, all right? _No_.”

 

«But what if he’s there?!»

 

“Well, then...” Gale turns around and gets down on his knees, narrowing his eyes at the image in front of him. He doesn’t even dare look past the gates… “Cricket buddy, c’mere…” Sebastian lets out a chuckle next to him.

 

«You think I haven’t tried that?»

 

“Come on, buddy… Cricket!” Gale ignores him and starts whistling.

 

 «It’s no use.»

 

“Sebby is here, isn’t he?” Gale casts the ghost a glance. “Help me you little twit.”

 

Seb actually starts calling for his dog, but gives up after a minute and exclaims that ‘ _it’s no fucking use, I told you! He’s not coming out!_ ’

 

“How do you know he’s there?” Gale straightens up, gesturing towards the graveyard. It’s getting colder by the minute and he’s certain it’s got nothing to do with the weather.

 

He already knows the answer.

 

“I can’t believe I’m actually doing this out of free will” he lets out a sigh, resignedly, and walks to the fence to climb it. Sebastian follows him up close now, not leading, but behind him, and Gale can’t blame him. He’s not sure if he’d be less scared if he was a ghost himself, but he’s eighteen and he’s terrified so he can only guess what a kid must feel. Alive or not.

 

After walking around calling for Cricket to no avail, he finally turns to Sebastian:

 

“I need to know where your grave is.” He says, and Seb lifts his hand and points to their right, past the leafy willows. The kid keeps his head down and Gale finds himself wishing yet again he was able to touch _them_. This time, not because he really needs to give anyone a much deserved punch, but a hug. Maybe a hand squeeze.

 

He shakes his head.

 

“Cricket” he sings as they approach the spot. It’s too dark to tell apart the shape of a gravestone to that of a lying dog. “Come out come out wherever you are…” his voice breaks up. _Come out before something jumps out of nowhere and makes me have a heart attack._

 

And as though on cue, someone grabs him from behind and he feels like his heart is going to bump its way out of his chest. There is a high sound -like static- that he doesn’t pay attention to as he struggles against the stranger. When he feels a hand against his mouth and then something incredibly salty inside, he fights to scream because _he’s not_ _going to be drugged and kidnapped like some kind of teenager out of a TV series_.

 

What kind of serial killer looks for their victims on a graveyard, though? The thought only makes him feel sick and he coughs aggressively because he’s sure something just went down the wrong pipe.

 

Surprisingly, the force keeping him in place is gone, and the first thing he does is trip over and fall to the floor. Maybe he even crawls some feet away quite pathetically, not paying attention to that “ _It’s ok, hey you’re fine_ ”, “ _I’m not going to hurt you_ ”, because it’s nothing but bullshit. He’s already drugged him with some salty shit, he’s certain he’s about to pass out and wake up in a dark and abandoned cellar surrounded by a scary man wearing a mask and holding sharp tools whilst laughing evilly.

 

“Hey!” the aggressor shouts this time. “ _Calm down_!”

 

“The hell I will!” he tries to say, but it’s probably unintelligible because he’s coughing and spitting all he can like crazy. He looks up from the floor and sees a tall man holding a lever and rubbing his hand on his jacket. Someone even taller appears behind him and Gale starts to eye the perimeter, ready to stand up and run for his life.  

 

He’s clearly younger than them, he must be able to outrun them.

 

“Hey, we’re not going to hurt you” the one with the lever says, but doesn’t move. It’s the one behind who takes a step towards him.

 

“We mistook you for someone else” he says, and Gale can see he has relatively long hair when he gets closer enough to offer his hand.

 

Needless to say, Gale doesn’t take it.

 

“Oh, yes, because there are so many people to mistake me for here” he says, thinking that if he is quick enough he can kick him on the balls and flee. For some reason he doubts this giant is going to let him get very far, though.

 

Not to mention the one with the lever. God knows what else he’s got hidden under that jacket…

 

“I’m Sam Winchester” the tallest, long-haired one says, handing him something that looks like a cell phone. Gale, still on the floor, snatches it from his hand. “That’s my brother, Dean.” He gestures to the other one. Gale presses a button on the phone and it lights up the place instantly. He can see that they both look apologetic.

 

But he’s not buying it.

 

“Are you granting me a final call?” he asks, and startles when the other one, the one with the killing tool, lets out a laugh.

 

“Look, you can… I don’t know, take the phone with you, call your mother, we’ll meet you at the entrance.” He shakes his head, as if he’s making it up at the moment. Gale tries not to think that his mother is never going to answer her phone.

 

“Where your car is parked.” He adds instead, frowning. And this time it’s the taller one who laughs.

 

“We haven’t got time for this. Will you keep the phone, or not?” Dean steps closer, reaching out and lifting both eyebrows expectantly.

 

Gale takes a step back and starts walking away.

 

“I’ll keep it” he says, casting glances behind him every two seconds to make sure they’re not following yet. He’s about five metres away when they start walking and he _does_ press ‘911’ just to reassure himself that if he ends up disappearing mysteriously, at least they’ll have a lead.

 

By the time he reaches the entrance, he has to climb over the fence again and wonders if that’s how Sam and Dean got in too, because there’s no way they have the key to the gates.

 

Unless they work there?

 

Well, he doesn’t have much time to think about it, because Sebastian appears before him and Gale nearly drops the phone.

 

“Where did you go?!” he whispers, looking back to the fence to make sure Dean and Sam aren’t there yet. Are those even their real names? “I almost get-!”

 

«They weren’t going to do anything to you» Sebastian sighs, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Gale thinks he even sees him roll his eyes.

 

“Whatever.” He says, checking behind him again. “I’m done. Good luck finding your insect” he bends down to leave the phone on the concrete and starts to walk away when he hears voices, but Sebastian keeps appearing in front of him and he keeps walking through him. “Do that one more time and I swear I will-“

 

«What? You can’t touch me, you can’t do anything.»

 

“Screw you. You and your cricket. Both of you.”

 

“Hey!” Gale halts and turns around, pretending he wasn’t talking alone. But the scrutiny with which Sam eyes him from head to toe tells him he’s seen it all. Oh well. “You need a ride?”

 

“If I need a ride? If I need-“ he starts walking again, in disbelief.

 

«You say you’d help me!» Sebastian continued. «Liar!»

 

“I never said it. You blew up my house and gave me no choice”

 

“Hey!” Sam calls for him again and Gale looks behind to make sure he’s not caught up with him. Dean is following close behind and they’re both walking his way.

 

«I’ll break your doors. I’ll start a fire on your apartment if you don’t help me, I swear!»

 

“That would actually be pretty helpful. Be my guest” he really needs to get rid of the evidence and a fire will do that just fine.

 

«Please! He’s my only friend!»

 

“That’s not going to work with me” Gale keeps walking and refuses to look down at him. He’s not going to do it, not even if Sebastian follows him around 24/7 crying his ghost eyes out.

 

«Please, please…»

 

There’s a sudden bark.

 

He halts, and Sebastian falls silent.

 

Damn him. Damn his luck. Damn everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, grammar mistakes are on me! (: I don't mind you leaving me comments, really, I don't, why would I? Please do T_T


	6. Chapter 6

Sebastian disappears from his side, and Gale really shouldn’t be worrying this much, because Sebastian is a ghost. A kid ghost. A kid ghost looking for his puppy _alright_ , he’s come this far, he might as well help him find the freaking animal.

 

Suddenly the barking’s intensified, and somehow is sounding much closer than a minute ago. Or rather, much louder.

 

Then Sebastian re-appears in front of him.

 

«He’s here!» he exclaims, urging the living boy to follow him. He tries to take Gale’s hand, as though for a moment he’s forgotten he can’t actually touch him, and Gale starts running after him.

 

They reach the corner and he instantly spots a black vehicle parked a few feet away. And inside, a furry figure moving excitedly. Sebastian leaves his side and appears next to the co-driver door, pointing at it.

 

«I can’t open it» he whines, nervously.

 

Gale is puzzled for a couple of seconds. Why doesn’t he just blow up the windows as he did to his apartment?

 

«Hurry up, they’re coming!» the kid snaps him out of his reverie, and Gale is about to ask _who_ when he hears another ‘ _hey!_ ’, this time coming from Dean.

 

He makes a run for the car, which is undoubtedly property of the Winchester brothers, and he doesn’t know why they’ve got a kid’s pet inside it but judging by the first impression, he doesn’t think their intentions are good.

 

The dog, -a dirty-looking golden retriever- starts barking louder and louder, Gale guesses at Seb, who’s standing right outside. He almost trips when he gets to the car, but manages to open the door before Sam or Dean turn round the corner.

 

Cricket gets off and starts jumping excitedly around Sebastian.

 

« _Watch out!_ »

 

He is pushed against the car by Dean as Sam goes after Cricket, all the while Sebastian is shouting at him not to let them catch him, not to let them do it, and Gale is struggling to get free.

 

«I can’t leave him alone!»

 

“Let me go! _HELP! SOMEBODY HE-!_ ” there’s a hand covering his mouth again, muffling his screams, and Dean is holding him in place like he’s some kind of delinquent.  

 

“Stay still kid, or this’ll get really nasty” Dean says behind him, panting, and Gale takes that as a good sign. He’s still the youngest here, and if he just gathers enough strength he can…

 

« _Help me!_ »

 

Gale is tempted to retort ‘ _you help me!_ ’ because he’s not the one with supernatural powers here.

 

But he’s helpless. Dean is much more muscular than he is, and by the time he finally lets go of him, Sam is coming back holding what looks like a collar.

 

He doesn’t try to run for it, because he understands that their quarrel isn’t exactly with him. This has to do with Sebastian, somehow…?

 

Gale doesn’t understand shit.

 

« _You were supposed to help!_ » the ghost breaks into tears and Gale starts to feel a mix of impotence and anger growing inside of him.

 

Sam’s panting, he eyes Gale with a frown.

 

“Is he still here?” he asks.

 

Gale’s breath gets stuck in his throat. Why is it that he saw this coming?

 

“…he’s- who?” he stammers, his voice sounding weird. Oh man, he’s starting to feel dizzy.

 

He glances in Sebastian’s direction, to assess the kid’s expression and see if he can find some kind of answer in it, but Sebastian is crying silently. His arms on his side, looking resigned.

 

 _What the_ fuck _is going on?_

“You know who” Dean answers, and Gale’s legs feel as though they’re made of jelly.

 

“Do you see him too?” he adds breathlessly, looking at Dean first, then at Sam, when he doesn’t get any response. Of course, that’s the stupidest question he could’ve ever made, but his brain isn’t quite at its 100% potential at the moment.

 

“We don’t see him.” Dean answers, less surprised than he should be, Gale thinks. What, is this all familiar to them? Trespassing cemeteries and running after ghost’s dogs?

 

“But then- how-“

 

“We hunt them.” Sam speaks this time, flatly.

 

That… doesn’t sound very friendly.

 

And Gale eyes Sebastian again, he’s still standing there, hopeless expression on his face.

 

The Winchesters follow his gaze.

 

‘That doesn’t sound friendly’? _That,_ actually sounds like the solution to all his problems! Then why does he want to snatch the collar from Sam and run like there’s no tomorrow? If that’s going to make Sebastian stop looking so miserable…

 

 _No, he’s a freaking ghost!_ And he’s having a conversation with two people about them. Outside a cemetery. And they’re not looking at him like he’s crazy but saying that they hunt these things!

 

“I see them. All the time, they follow me everywhere. How do I make it stop?” he blurts out, and hears Sebastian chuckling next to him.

 

«I thought you were good!»

 

“Well you thought wrong” he retorts immediately, turning to look at Sebastian. Suddenly concentrating all the anger on him, like he’s every ghost that’s ever haunted him and made his life impossible. “May I remind you I’m here because you threw me against a wall?”

 

«I’m sorry» he breaks into tears again. And Gale clenches his teeth. «Don’t let them do it»

 

Gale frowns and turns to the two men.

 

“How do you hunt them, if you can’t see them?”

 

Sam slips his hand into the pocket of his jacket and takes out some kind of technological thing that looks like something to measure the weather.

 

“With this” he switches something on, and that static noise Gale heard back when they intercepted him on the graveyard is back.

 

“Measures magnetic fields. If there’s a ghost around-“ but Dean is suddenly flying through the air to the other side of the road. And so is Sam. Gale glances at Sebastian and snatches the collar from Sam’s hand as quick as he can manage before he even knows he’s doing it.

 

“ _Son of a bitch_ -” Dean curses when Gale jumps over him to get away.

 

And he runs, not looking back. And basically panicking inside and trying not to puke, because _he just met two ghost hunters_.

 

*         *        *

 

Gale thought there was a limit to his misery. Or rather, wished there was. Obviously enough was enough, right? He had had his weekly dose of adrenaline in less than two hours, and he only had a six-year-old ghost to thank for it. He would normally think it wouldn’t get worse than that, his night. But he already knew the world was conspiring against him, so he recovered really quickly when he spotted patrol cars outside his building.

 

Someone must’ve called the cops. He sighs.

 

He would’ve noticed the red and blue colours lightning up the whole block if he hadn’t been feeling like shit. _And_ the multitude of people buzzing like bees.

 

He just ran a lot of blocks, _a lot,_ and he still has the feeling Sam and Dean will turn round the corner to legitimately end him _and Sebastian_ (who wouldn’t stop thanking him over and over again and telling him he was the best and that were he still alive he’d love to hang out with him and that he was the older brother he’d never have and Gale had cut him off at some point and shooed him, Sebastian was so thankful that he obliged immediately and promised to ‘see him later’ to which Gale let out an audible groan, but didn’t have the will complain).

 

He still can’t quite understand why he did it, though. Why he just antagonized the only two people who he was sure, could help him crawl out of the hell he was living. He was in too deep, already. Maybe something inside him knew this, that there wasn’t really a way out so he might as well make himself comfortable. By _helping ghosts_.

 

Well, isn’t that what he’s been doing all along? Albeit with a different purpose.

 

He heads for the building, stopping next to Mrs. Richard’s kid among other neighbours whose faces should at least ring a bell, but he’s not making any promises, let alone at this hour of night. He clutches down next to Tom, who’s wearing Gryffindor pyjamas, figuring he must be freaking out. Mrs. Richard works the night shift and Tom sometimes stays around for ice-cream when Maria is home and feels like having a proper dinner (which doesn’t happen very often). Actually, Gale doesn’t even know how long it’s been since he saw Tom. Has he got taller?

 

“What’s this all about?” he asks, Tom instantly turning to look at him. Oh boy, does he know.

 

“Hi!” the kid gives him a bright smile, “you’re okay!”

 

Gale pats him on the back.

 

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

 

“They said your apartment exploded! I was lucky mine didn’t, imagine how hysterical mom would’ve got. The firetruck is on its way” the kid blurted out. Fixing his glasses on his nose, he stood on his tiptoes and tried to look past the crowd. Firetruck? “Hey, you should probably let the cops know you’re here” the kid eyes him from head to toe, but doesn’t say a word. Tom is accustomed to seeing him all scruffy-looking.

 

Gale lets out a sigh, and leaves the kid’s side.

 

“Son, you need to stay behi-“

 

“I live there” he points vaguely to the sky. “That’s my apartment, I need to-“

 

“All right” the stern-looking cop approaches him, holding up a hand and rubbing his eyes as he adopts what is supposed to be a menacing posture. “What you need to do is wait until this is dealt with, you’re not going in there until everything’s been checked. Nobody is. So back up and let us work” he glares at him in a less than friendly manner and Gale doesn’t dare answer. He clenches his teeth –curses at Sebastian again- and returns to his spot next to Tom.

 

Has he mentioned he hates his life? Because he does. A lot.

 

Half an hour later, when he’s struggling to keep awake –he and Tom are seated next to each other on the pavement, and Tom has been dozing off for the last ten minutes, Gale is sure he even drooled a bit on his shirt but he couldn’t care less at this point- the fire-fighters give the cops the green light, and everybody’s returning to the safety of their homes muttering things about ‘gas leaks’ and ‘careless teenagers’. Gale is too tired to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

 

It’s been blamed on gas, and he’s more than grateful for it. Now can he go sleep?

 

“I’m sorry, son. You’re going to have to accompany me to the police station”

 

Tom looks up to Gale.

 

Gale looks down to Tom.

 

Shaking his head, because he’s sure his brain is definitely tricking him, he lets out a laugh.

 

“I’m sorry, I thought I just heard you saying I need to go to the police station?”

 

“You heard well” the cop frowns, and one of his hands goes to rest on the handcuffs hanging from his belt.

 

Gale’s mouth goes dry.

 

“And- why- why is that?” he stutters. Splendid, now he’s looking even guiltier. _Pull yourself together_.

 

The cop doesn’t seem to take pity on him. His stern expression doesn’t change, and he keeps staring Gale down.

 

“You’ll need to answer some questions, just the usual procedure.”

 

Tom is waving at him from the elevator a couple of minutes later. Gale is walked outside, flanked by a couple of cops, and finds himself sitting on a chair on the police station, fifteen minutes later. With a hell of a headache. How was he supposed to explain he wasn’t a teenage mastermind that had planned to blow up an entire building? And what was he supposed to answer when they asked where he’d been? Hunting dog-ghosts around the city, with a ghost-kid, running from ghost-hunters?

 

He lets out a whine as the pounding in his head intensifies, and leans on the table. Of course his night could get worse, it always did. 


	7. Chapter 7

Gale can’t concentrate. Which is completely rational, giving the fact that he’s spent his night in a cell, sharing space with a passed-out drunkard and a particularly intimidating ghost that doesn’t stop muttering horrible things next to him. It’s angry, and grim and cold, and just sits there, as though Gale’s given him permission to occupy the bench space next to him and is content to hear his horrifying promises of hatred –he isn’t–. Jesse doesn’t turn to look at him, but he does point to every police woman and man in the precinct that’s in their vision field, and passes the time by telling Gale ways in which he’d kill them if he were alive.

Needless to say, Gale isn’t thrilled by any of it. But he’s too tired and scared to do anything –he isn’t about to complain about a murderous ghost sitting next to him– so he just absent-mindedly nods when Jesse ends a sentence with something that sounds like a question. 

The police officer had said he’d be questioned, but here he is, god-knows how much time it’s passed. He’s got a maths exam in the morning, he’s physically and mentally exhausted and the fact that Maria might not have the slightest idea where he is right now, makes him grunt. Surely she’d been notified her apartment had exploded, right?

Gale was not underage, but he was still a teenager. Maybe that’s what’s taking so long, he thinks. Maybe they need to get in touch with his family.

The drunkard stirs on the bench opposite, and Gale looks up.

If only he were drunk… he’d get a wink of sleep. But the sound of photocopiers, and papers, and typing on keyboards, and that police officer who walks past the cell to check up on him –or the drunkard- every twenty minutes… he just can’t bring himself to press his eyes together and disconnect.

This is all Sebastian’s fault, that stupid kid. Why the fuck didn’t he hand that collar over to Sam and Dean? Why didn’t he get rid of him? What was the collar for anyway?

Something makes a clank and Gale startles.

The police officer is standing on the other side of the cell, and much to Gale’s relief, he’s inserting one of the keys into the keyhole a second after, and gesturing for him to get up.

Jesse stands up along with him, and hovers menacingly over the man.

“Hands” states the officer, and Gale is puzzled for a moment before he’s yanked forwards and his hands handcuffed. The metal feels cold against his skin and he can’t help but grimace.

He’s not a criminal, for fuck’s sake.

He’s too nervous to speak a word, so he just lets himself be dragged into an empty room –apart from two chairs, one on which he sits, and the table in front–.

The room is poorly-lit, and Gale can’t help but gasp when Jesse re-appears next to him, glaring daggers at the police officer who then abandons the room without answering the silent question he’s directing at him.

The walls are grey and he shudders when the ghost gets too close to him.

“Please don’t do that” he mutters under his breath.

Jesse ignores him and traces a hand along the chair’s top rail.

«I sat here too, once…» he mumbles.

Gale holds his breath and counts the minutes, resting his handcuffed hands on the table.

«I was innocent» he adds, and Gale tries not to recoil. He keeps looking down, clenching his teeth and internally wishing someone walks in. «Are you innocent, Gale?» he whispers in his ear, almost seductively, and Gale _does_ move his chair back this time.

“Stop it” he mutters, casting a glance to his side. It’s a good thing ghosts don’t emanate any smells, because Jesse has vomit on his hoodie, it drips down his pants and somehow it even managed to get on his dark curls. He smiles when Gale looks at him.

«Overdose» he says, shrugging like it’s no big deal.

The door opens and Gale almost snaps his neck when he directs his eyes to it. His breath comes out in a cloud then, when he lets out a silent gasp. Jesse has managed to turn the 4-feet-room into a fridge in the blink of an eye, and Sam and Dean notice it too, before they close the door behind them.

Dean lets out a groan and tightens the suit around him.

Gale is still speechless when he takes a sit on the opposite chair.

“Do you have ghosts around you at all times?” Sam asks, almost empathically.

“I-I told you-“ Gale blurts out, but is interrupted by Jesse muttering a rather violent threat like the ones he’d been directing at the police squad throughout the whole night, just now, directed at him.

«You tell them _nothing_ about me, or I swear I’m gonna rip your head off and feed it to your dog» the ghost says, and Gale can’t help but glance to his left. «Hunter, are you? _You little piece of shi_ -»

The image disappears into thin air from a moment to another, much to Gale’s surprise. Sam is standing there now, and he gives him a reassuring smile. The temperature of the room comes back to normal in an instant.

“How did you do that?” he gasps, oh my god, he needs to learn how to do that.

“Tell you what” Dean says, “you tell me where the collar is and I’ll teach you” he offers, though it sounds incredibly fake and Gale frowns.

“You teach me first, then you get the collar” he answers, trying to keep it cool and not jump at the possibility of finally being able to make dead people stop tormenting him. In the blink of an eye!

“How about this: you give me the collar and I don’t arrest you” he smiles, and it only crosses Gale’s mind then, that he’s in a police station, and there is no way Sam and Dean sneaked into the place like they did the graveyard. And they’re wearing suits.

“I-I- you can’t arrest me, I didn’t do anything” he blurts out. “I- just leave the kid alone, he’s not hurting anyone”

Gale’s headache is probably due to a concussion, due to the hit to the head due to Sebastian sending him flying across the air, but it’s fine, he tells himself, Sebastian just wanted to get his dog back, which _they’d_ taken away from him in the first place. So he’s hardly guilty.

“He will, sooner or later” Sam chimes in. “He needs to go”

“Where? Where does he go?” Gale breathes out. Heaven? Hell? Limbo? Where do ghosts go? He’d always assumed they just remained among the living… They were everywhere, always lingering menacingly, their heads smashed and blood dripping down their clothes if they’d had a violent death…

 «I’m gonna rip your guts out if you do that again» Jesse appears on the corner of the room, and Gale startles again. Dean turns around and frowns at the wall, where the ghost is standing.

“Tell him” he says. Gale doesn’t comply, because Jesse is looking more and more murderous by the minute. “You can’t stay, Sebastian. It’s time to go” Dean says to the air.

“That’s- he’s not-“ Gale stutters. “Sebastian’s not here” he stands up from the chair when Jesse approaches again, with a knowing grin. A shudder runs through the boy’s whole body, hardly due to the shift in the room's temperature anymore. “It’s Jes-“

“Agents” Someone steps into the room, and Sam takes a step aside, putting space between him and Gale, much to the youngster’s discomfort. “There’s been a… mistake” the officer states, directing his look to Gale, who’s trying his best to look neutral despite having an angry ghost standing almost in front of him “I’m to escort the kid back” he gestures to the corridor, and Gale doesn’t move from his place despite the police officer sending a quizzical look his way.

He glances at Dean and Sam, and then at Jesse, who is waiting by the door.

«Come on, out you go»

“What do you mean, ‘a mistake’? Are you telling us we came all the way here just for nothing?” Dean snarls.

“Apparently so.” The officer says, and gestures to Gale again. He does make his way towards the door now, albeit reluctantly. “Orders from up high” is what the policeman offers as an explanation, before nodding in Sam and Dean’s direction and walking away with Gale, who sends a glance into the room as a last call for help before the door closes.

 

 

He spends thirty more minutes sitting at a desk and clenching his teeth and trying to keep his breathing steady. No questions are being asked, of any kind, and he simply stays still on his place, like a kid waiting to be picked up from school. Which, he probably is. Except he’s not a kid, and he probably won’t even make it home.

He knows this is his aunt’s doing the moment he lays eyes on the blonde, looking all professional and serious and intimidating. She smiles warmingly at him but her expression turns dark again the moment she notices the handcuffs.

“Is that really necessary?” she snaps at the police officer, who fidgets with the keys nervously before taking the handcuffs off him. Gale would be pleased if it weren’t for Jesse looking at him in an almost maniac way. He doesn’t stop that, and Gale knows it’ll be just a matter of walking out of the precinct before things get nasty.

“Who are you?” he asks to the blonde chick. He’s never been possessed whilst in company before, and though Jesse seemed like a passive and rather chatty spirit at the beginning, Sam’s managed to spike the fury within him. He can see it in his eyes. He’s just… biding his time.

“My name is Sharon, I’m a colleague of-“

“Of my aunt, yes” Gale finishes, knowing the drill. He swallows and casts a glance back to the corridor, hoping to see Sam or Dean approaching. They aren’t. And Sharon is walking him out of the place and towards a black van.

He hates those vans.

“Actually, of Steve’s” she says, letting out a friendly laugh. Gale doesn’t have time for friendliness. There’s a ghost next to him and a patrol car with two cops inside and they’re carrying guns and-

“ _WHAT THE FUCK!_ ”

Sharon turns around alarmed when Gale throws his hands in the air to shield himself from something that she cannot see.

“Everything all right?” she frowns, retrieving her steps and catching up with him, who’s standing frozen in place, glaring at the air. “Gale?” she prompts, when he doesn’t answer.

“Yeah- yeah- I Just-“ he breathes in shakily. “I just remembered I- have a- uh- some- exam, maths exam and all my stuff- uh- books are in the apartment… which exploded?”

Sharon smiles again, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He isn’t reassured.

“You’ll be fine” she says, winking at him, and Gale feels like he’s missing something but he doesn’t ask, because his mind is still in a temporary crash. He follows her to the van, casting another glance behind him to the police station in hopes of seeing any of the ghostbusters.

They aren’t there.

Sharon takes the wheel, and they drive past a familiar black Impala which Gale is really hoping to see again very soon, because Jesse just caught fire in front of him.

 _Flames_.

Did he burn? Does it hurt? It is the end?

All he knows is Dean and Sam are definitely his way out of this living hell, and he’s not going to antagonize them anymore.

Sebastian needs to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyy! Long time no see guys -sorry for that-.  
> Just so you know, I'll be using Supernatural as a guide to ghost-hunting(?, so if you haven't watched the show and have any questions regarding anything, ask away(:  
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter and thanks for sticking around!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Long time! Have some more of Gale, his cute crush on Steve, and his miserable life that becomes even *more* miserable in this chapter. Sorry Gale...

 

So, the good news is he's been granted a leave of two days from school due to the whole apartment-blowing-up business, which means the maths exam has been postponed for him. The bad news, is there is no apartment to go back to. The bad news is Sharon Carter is Steve's neighbour. The worst news, is Maria isn't in the country --which didn't stop her from giving him an earful through Sharon's phone-- and she has once again decided to leave Gale under her colleagues' supervision. Gale doesn't have the will power to protest, to comment, to be your-usual-moody-teenager. He has had _the_ longest night ever. Somehow, crashing at Sharon's house for a couple of days doesn't concern him as much as it should --for all he knows she's another psychologist or some kind of army/spy/detective his aunt has paid to keep an eye on him. 

 

"Are you okay with pepperoni pizza?" Sharon exclaims from the corridor just as Gale turns off the water tap. He answers with a vague "great", and steps out of the shower. Truth is he isn't hungry at all. His stomach is a knot. He can't shake off the image of Jesse's ghost burning up in front of him. He'd never seen anything like it before. He didn't know what --or who-- had caused it, he didn't know if he was gone for good, and that's what makes him look over his shoulder at the faintest cold breeze. Jesse wasn't at all happy, and an angry ghost was the worst kind of ghost. He wanted to hold onto the belief that it had been Sam and Dean's doing, supposing they were professional ghost-hunters, if there even was such a thing. He wanted to believe Jesse was gone to never comeback, but the truth is he hadn't the faintest idea of what had happened or why, and therefore, deep inside he couldn't quite shake off the paranoia. If there was the slightest possibility Jesse was still out there, Gale couldn't let his guard down. Although his guard wouldn't serve much of a purpose once the ghost had made up his mind to take hold of his body anyway, so perhaps he should just relax and let whatever is meant to happen, happen.

 

He needed to get ahold of Dean and Sam. And quickly. The last thing he needs to top this night is to get possessed by the spirit of a drug-addicted delinquent while he's staying over in a stranger's apartment. His aunt already thinks he's up to no good. That would really be the icing of the cake.

 

He lets out a prolongued sigh and stares at the pile of clothes Sharon left for him on top of the counter. A red t-shirt and sweatpants. For a moment he wonders if those are Sharon's or if she's crossed the treshold and knocked on her neighbour's door to kindly ask for clothes. Then he unfolds the sweatpants and discards the idea immediately. Those wouldn't fit Steve _or Bucky_. Because they live together. Of course they live together. 

 

Sometimes Gale doesn't realize how disconnected from reality he is most of the time. Well, it's not easy to live in this and _that_  world at the same time. You are either talking about school stuff with your family or having a passive-aggressive conversation with a ghost that's following you around. Doing both is impossible, and since avoiding confrontation with ghosts at all costs is obviously more important than his otherwise ordinary life, of course he doesn't pay attention to it. Of course he's oblivious. 

 

What does he care, anyway? Steve is probably like thirty, and that is only the first reason out of a hundred why nothing could ever happen between them. It's a ridiculous thought. But not even _he_ can blame himself for going there. After all, his love-life is even more unexistent than his _normal_ life. Of course he will fantazise about a gorgeous blonde dude that has saved the world. Who wouldn't?

 

"That is only partially true," comes a manly voice, and a form materializes in front of Gale, who trips backwards on the wet tiles. There's a strong grip on his shoulder that prevents him from falling, and that alone has the boy panicking, because ghosts can't touch him, he can't be touching him, why is this-- how-- "I'm not a ghost, Gale, and I'm not here to harm you" the man answers in that same low-toned, passive manner. 

 

Gale can't catch his breath, but his eyes go to the door behind him, to check it's properly closed.

 

"Yes, perhaps we should have this conversation somewhere else"

 

Gale's throat makes a strangled noise, and before he can have time to dodge that hand coming closer to his face, his surroundings have changed alltogether, from a bathroom to what looks like a library, and he's feeling dizzy and his legs turn to jelly.

 

"WHAT-- just-- what--" he gasps, losing balance.

 

"Jesus, Cas!"

 

Now _there's_  a slightly familiar voice.

 

"I said find him, not give him a heart attack!"

 

"I, well, I thought he knew--"

 

"Get up kid, come on" Dean helps him up, but God, his strength is failing him, he needs a bucket, he's going to throw up.

 

He gets the bucket almost immediately. He looks up in horror.

 

"I'm sorry if I startled you, Gale."

 

Gale makes another strangled sound, confused, gripping the bucket with unnecessary force, looking around, where is he? He was... he was in Sharon's bathroom... DID HE JUST FUCKING TELEPORT?!

 

"Yes, that would be the technical term."

 

A silent look from Sam has the trenchcoat man closing his mouth. He mutters an apology.

 

"I'll comeback later" he looks away, offers Gale a sheepish smile, and disappears into a corridor.

 

"Breathe deep now, you're fine" Dean helps him down onto a chair.

 

_I'm not fine, I'm_ so _not fine._

 

"Who... was...?" He vaguely gestures behind him, not finding words, not getting enough air yet.

 

"That's Castiel, he's a friend." Sam answers, taking a seat opposite him. Gale waits for him to elaborate, but seeing as Sam doesn't seem interested in doing so, he turns to Dean. 

 

Dean opens his mouth, then closes it. Then looks to Sam.

 

Gale is growing more and more uneasy with every silent second that goes by.

 

"He's an angel" Sam's voice suddenly snaps. Quick and brief as if dropping a bomb.

 

Gale lets out a laugh.

 

An angel. Right. Sure.

 

But Sam and Dean aren't laughing. And Gale was in an apartment in New York a minute ago. And now he's not. And when he thought about the bucket he got a bucket and when he wondered about teletransportation he got an answer.

 

"An angel? An angel..."

 

He looks down, holds the bucket in place and throws up the little food he has in his stomach --milk and cereals from Sharon's kitchen-- accompanied by a horrible gagging sound.

 

"This could've been avoided if he'd _just_ done what I asked. For an angel he's quite the idiot" Dean is talking near, but Gale only hears static in his head.

 

Angels.

 

Angels exist.

 

He'd never thought about angels before. Does that mean demons exist too? What about God?

 

"Oh God" he breathes out, incidentally.

 

"It's fine" Sam places a can of coke on the table, in front of him.

 

Again, Gale is the farthest thing from fine.

 

And he's only wearing boxers.

 

 

*     *     * 

 

 

"This, is the best pizza you'll ever have" Sharon comments exitedly as she chews a bite herself, and pushes the box towards him. Gale offers a weak smile and reaches for a piece. "You feeling good? You look rather pale" 

 

He takes a bit of the pizza despite his stomach strongly recommending otherwise, just so he can postpone having to answer that question.

 

No, he's never been less ok in his life. An angel snapped him out of a bathroom in New York city back to a ghost-busters lair in the middle of Kansas, just for him to tell the location of a ghost's dog collar so they could get rid of a poltergeist before it kept wrecking havoc. Gale had dumped the collar in a garbage dumpster on his way back to the apartment that day. Castiel had appeared with the collar in his hand in the blink of an eye. Literally. 

 

After some quick words of advice --salt and iron, salt and iron, salt and iron, he kept repeating it in his head as a mantra, lest he forget it among so many other thoughts navigating his mind-- the angel had brought him back just in time to have dinner.

 

Five minutes. It'd taken Sam and Dean --and Cas-- five minutes to completely turn his world upside down. Even _more_ upside down, if that makes sense. No. Everything he thought he knew, it'd been thrown into a blender and then poured back into his head.

 

His hand shakes.

 

Angels, demons, ghosts, supernatural hunters. And what else? 

 

"Gale?" Sharon calls.

 

"I'm not hungry" he answers immediately, as he gets up and swipes his sweating forehead with the back of his hand. "I think I caught stomach flu or something" he explains, another hand going to rest over his belly.

 

This will serve as an explanation later, if his nerves continue to go strong during the night. 

 

"Oh, let's get you to bed, come on" she places a gentle hand on his lower back and walks with him, "I don't think I have anything for stomach flu" she mumbles to herself as they walk past the kitchen. Gale eyes the cabinets with longing. 

 

"Perhaps Steve does" he says, out of the blue. Sharon looks at him with raised eye-brows. "I... think I saw some medicine on their bathroom last time I crashed there" he adds.

 

"They're not home" Sharon explains, turning the lights on and peeling open the sheets on the bed. Gale sits on it and lets out a theatrical sigh. Sharon rubs a gentle hand on his leg. "Though I suppose they wouldn't mind me breaking in if it's to make you feel better" she adds with a smile. Gale's mind is too troubled with thoughts at the moment to grasp the meaning behind those words. He lets out a quiet laugh as he lies down on the bed. "I'll be back in a jiffy" she says, after taking his temperature with the back of her hand.

 

He's not feverish. He hasn't got the stomach flu. The only thing he has is bad luck.

 

He's already in the corridor when he hears the main door close behind Sharon. He runs into the kitchen and starts opening drawer by drawer, looking for the salt. Most of them are strangely empty, and only _few_  of them actually contain any kitchen supplies. Sharon mustn't cook at all.

 

He sends an urgent look to the door behind him, whispers a begging _"pleeeease"_ and opens the last cupboard. His heart jumps excitedly at the sight of a big jar, but it settles back down at seeing its dark contents. He pushes the jar aside, hoping this is the place Sharon keeps all the spices on, but there's only another jar of sugar and packages of instant noodles. All the signs point to Sharon being a huge workaholic that never eats proper food and keeps herself alive --and awake-- by chugging copious --and unhealthy-- amounts of black coffee.

 

He doesn't have time to inspect further. He hears Sharon come in just as he slips back into the bed.

 

"Hey" she whispers as she comes into the room, a glass with water in one hand, and a tablet in the other one. It's official: he's got rotten luck. "You were right" she smiles handing him a pill and the glass. 

 

Gale places the pill under his tongue and takes a couple of sips from the glass. 

 

"They're probably James'" Sharon comments, placing the tablet on the bedside table. "I'll leave them there, you should take another one in about six hours."

 

"Who's James?" Gale frowns, trying to steer the conversation far from anything to do with pills. Unless it's sleeping pills, those, he would really need.

 

"Oh, right." Sharon shakes her head slightly, her blonde curls dancing around her face. "Bucky. His name's James. James Buchanan. That's where the nickname comes from, I think? From when they were kids? I'm not sure, that was waaaay long ago."

 

"Where are they now?"

 

"Oh, I'm pretty sure they're kicking ass somewhere in Europe."

 

Sometimes he forgets the kind of people Maria works with on a daily basis. He's too busy concerned with his own problems and dangers that he doesn't consider that his aunt might be facing something alike. She kept pistols in the house. She goes on "work retreat" often. That's what she calls it. Gale hasn't wondered enough. He hasn't wondered enough all those two little words could entail. 

 

"Is my aunt with them?" He asks, suddenly eager to be reassured. Though he already knows the answer.

 

"She is. But she works more on the... intelligence side, you understand."

 

No. Gale _doesn't_ understand. Not much anyway. 

 

"Well, she's pretty secretive about it all, I don't really know what she does. She never speaks about her job. Or about anything, for that matter" he laughs bitterly. "I mean, we do talk!" He is quick to add. He's making it sound as if all his aunt does is ignore him. "We talk, it's just... it's always..."

 

Superficial. Maria doesn't share much. That's okay, Gale understands her job requires secrecy. He doesn't mind. But he, on the other hand, doesn't have a super secret spy job he isn't allowed to talk about. So on his side, unable to offer any kind of explanation --albeit vague-- that accounts for his odd behaviour, results in his aunt being way more questioning than he can afford. 

 

Telling anyone about his little "condition" is out of the question. Even _supposing_ Maria didn't keep him in mental lockdown after he told her he can speak with the dead --a very unlikely scenario--, _even_ if she believed him, he wouldn't think for a _second_ to get her involved in this. He has enough already with ghosts trying to hurt him and possess him, the last thing he needs is Maria around as a pressure point. She can't see the ghosts, so she shouldn't be involved at all. Less even so now. Now that Gale has learnt that it isn't even the _tip_  of the iceberg. Dean and Sam had pointedly avoided the few questions he'd had the nerve to ask them, and he had seen the reluctancy written all over their body language just before they told him he had just met an angel. And that could only mean one thing: ghosts and angels were only the _beginning_ of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that! I'm working on the next chapter so I might post it soon! Love xx


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Just going to make a few notes for the people who might not have watched Supernatural: Salt and iron repel ghosts, angels can read minds and teleport and, well, a whole bunch of stuff, you can just go [here](http://supernatural.wikia.com/wiki/Supernatural_Wiki) or [here](http://www.supernaturalwiki.com/) if you want to know more, it's what I use as reference seeing as it's been a long time since I watched the show. Also, I'm mixing up stuff from the Marvel universe as I please and this totally won't be correct chronologically. Bucky has come to his senses and that's only something we see at the end of Civil War, kind of. I'm just building it up with bits and pieces from everything that's already assembled. Don't be confused if everything seems to be out of place, it is. Same goes for Supernatural, I'm totally not following the course of the series here.

He's lost count of how many times he's rolled around in that stupid bed. It comes as no surprise the fact that he can't fall asleep today of _all days_. He hadn't even started to become accustomed to a sleeping routine after almost a year of dealing with his little special gift. And now, well, now it turns out there's more to it than just unfriendly ghosts who make him jump at night and prevent him from having a social life. Now there's angels who can teleport and _read his fucking mind_.

 

He groans and rolls around in the bed again, muffling the pitiful sounds coming out of his mouth with the pillow. Maybe he was better off not knowing this. If it hadn't been for Sebastian, if he hadn't been in that graveyard that night, he wouldn't have met Sam and Dean, they wouldn't have asked "a friend" to track him down to interrogate him about a dog's collar. He would've just kept living the life he was getting used to. But then again, if he hadn't met them, he would've kept living not knowing how to ward the ghosts off. And Sam and Dean hadn't just _warded off_ Jesse. They'd got him off the limbo, they'd said. Burned to ashes, literally. He'd been holding on to a bracelet that'd been misplaced among his belongings in the police station. So they'd burned the bracelet, and so Jesse had passed on to a better life --or perhaps a worse one--. Just as Sebastian had already, Gale thinks. They just had to burn the collar and that'd be it.

 

He'd asked them why. Maybe he did feel emphathy towards that little twat in the end. He was just a kid, after all. But it had to be done. 

 

"He's not a harmless ghost anymore. He's been around long enough to turn bad, I'm sure you've had your fair share of those." Dean had told him. 

 

Yes he'd had. Jesse, for instance. He had something raw and hostile about him. Sebastian didn't give off that feeling, not yet anyway, though he _had_ thrown him against a wall after he'd stood up to him and told him he wasn't willing to cooperate. 

 

"They can't help it. It's not something you can turn on and off at will" Sam had explained. Then they'd told him to hold onto something made of iron and have salt at hand. Draw a line of salt in the entrances, even better to draw a circle and stay in it at night, if he wanted to get some sleep --and they'd gestured toward their own faces at making this suggestion--. They hadn't had time for much talk, Cas brought him back not long after, telling him Sharon was growing impatient at his delay but she didn't want to rush him out of the shower. Gale had asked Castiel if he could read everyone's mind, but Sharon had announced that the pizza had arrived and when Gale turned around to shout he'd be right out, the angel left.

 

Now he was in bed, salt-less, iron-less, and sleepless.

 

*    *    *

 

"Gale can't sleep." Cas states, matter-of-factly.

 

Dean cleans the mayonnaise from his fingers and reaches for another beer.

 

"Now whose fault is that?" he retorts. The he turns to Sam. "You really don't know how to read my facial expressions."

 

"I do, I just thought it better for him to know the truth."

 

"As if he didn't have enough trouble seeing fucking spirits already!" Dean exclaims. "Let's add angels to that, why not? Why don't we just lend him our journal and quiz him on how to kill a vampire and spot a werewolf. _He's just a kid_ "

 

"Yeah, a kid who sees ghosts even when _we_ can't see them!"

 

"And you just want to add more to his plate?" Dean uses his second burger to point at Sam's face. "He already looked miserable enough to me."

 

"We were practically born hunters, you killed your first vampire when you were nineteen, so what's the difference?"

 

"You're not serious, are you?"

 

Sam shrugs.

 

"Our parents were hunters. We knew about this world before we'd even begun to do maths. This kid's different."

 

"He certainly is." Cas chimes in.

 

Sam and Dean turn to him. Cas is facing the floor and it takes him a couple of seconds to realize the brothers are expecting an answer.

 

"He's a medium. Of sorts."

 

"Of sorts?"

 

"I thought mediums had to go through all that little show before communicating with ghosts" Sam frowns, as he picks at his salad with a fork.

 

"He was... dead for some time. Enough time."

 

"Enough... for what?" Dean tentatively asks.

 

"A tiny part of his soul's stuck in limbo. He's... a strange case. He's here and there, it's like he's split between two worlds."

 

"So that's why he can see them? He's like... part ghost?" Sam asks, uncertain. 

 

"That's one way to put it, yes." Cas nods, then gets up without comment and makes for the kitchen.

 

"You want a burger?" Dean offers.

 

"You know perfectly well I don't eat, Dean." Cas answers, with that stolid voice, as always. "Not food, anyway." He adds with a little smirk.

 

Sam then drops the fork into the plate with a _clink_.

 

"That does it. Thank you guys." He complains, making a disgusted face.

 

Dean laughs at him as he stuffs his mouth with french fries. Cas appears back next to them with the salt jar in one hand and a very familiar ring on the other.

 

"You aren't wearing this anymore, are you?" He asks to Dean, showing him the jewelry. Dean takes the ring and examines it in silence, as if in deep thought, for about half a minute. 

 

"Well, if he can't really get rid of them... We might as well help him to keep them at bay." He hands the ring back to Cas, but when the angel is going to take it back, he snatches his hand out of reach and points accusingly at him. "But keep your pie-hole shut. You leave the ring and the salt and you comeback, we'll give him the talk some other day."

 

"The talk?" Sam laughs.

 

Dean nods, and gives the ring back to Cas.

 

"The talk."

 

 

*    *    *

 

 

Gale nearly falls out of bed when Castiel materializes next to him. No matter how many times it happens, he just _can't_ get accustomed to beings popping up out of nowhere.

 

"I... apologize" Cas' low voice says.

 

Gale breathes deep to make his heartbeat go back to normal.

 

"It's... it's fine" Gale shakes a hand, dismissively, as he sits up. "Is that salt?" He asks, with glinting eyes. "Would you believe that woman doesn't have any salt in her kitchen?!" He passively-aggressively complains, pointing to the door. "I mean, what kind of person...?"

 

"Dean wanted to give you this" Cas cuts off his nervous babbling, offering the piece of jewelry on his palm.

 

Gale frowns, takes the ring, puzzled, then immediately puts two and two together and gets way too excited for his own good.

 

"Is it iron?" He puts it on, tries it on in every finger, and from every finger it slides off. "So they won't get near me if I'm wearing this?"

 

"No. It just works as a repellent. They can still get to you, but if you punch one, they won't like it."

 

Gale considers this for a couple of seconds. So all this ring would do is piss off a ghost but not exactly stop it from possessing him? To what point is this thing actually useful? He needs something to fight the damn things, not a way to make them angrier and vengeful!

 

He looks up, and for once is glad he doesn't have to speak his mind. It's past 3 and he honestly doesn't have the energy to express his disappointment.

 

Cas looks apologetic, again.

 

"That will have to do for now." The angel says, before popping open the jar and getting a handful of salt.

 

"For now?" Gale repeats.

 

Cas makes a salt line behind the door, then he moves to the window and repeats the action, pointedly ignoring Gale's raging thoughts.

 

"Sleep, now. Dean and Sam will get in touch."

 

"When? When will they?" Gale drifts closer to the edge of the bed, already dreading the moment he is left alone once again, in this unfamiliar house.

 

"Soon. I'll be watching over you, you needn't be scared." Cas reassures him.

 

Gale's breath gets caught in his throat, as a sudden thought pops up into his head.

 

"Cas, do you come from heaven?"

 

"I... yes. That's where I am from, originally."

 

"So... so are there other angels? Up there?"

 

"Many of us, yes." Cas nods.

 

"And, you watch over people? Is that what you do? After you die?"

 

This time, Cas doesn't answer as quickly.

 

"Heaven is... a peaceful place. A place of rest. We angels... we were created, we are not human."

 

Gale stares at him, stares up, as Cas is still standing next to the bed, and he's still all tangled in the bedsheets.

 

Perhaps this is not the time to get curious, he thinks. He's got a lot of school shopping and catching up to do when it's day, and this conversation is not going to help him wind down. It's not the time to get angsty.

 

He nods.

 

"Okay, thank you." He smiles to the angel, as he settles back down in the bed.

 

"Just call me if you need me." Cas says in a gentle voice, placing the salt war on the bedside table, next to the glass of water and pills Sharon left there earlier. He moves quietly, the only sound that of his flapping trenchcoat and impeccable black shoes slowly moving over the wooden floor.

 

"I don't have a phone" Gale says. _Thanks to you, Sebastian,_  he adds in his head.  _And I don't have_ your _number anyway._

 

Cas smiles, and disappears.

 

Gale blinks.

 

For the first time in a while, he doesn't feel alone.

 

He turns on his side, and staring at the salt jar and gripping with force Dean's iron ring in one hand, he starts to get sleepy.  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more thing: Destiel and Stucky will probably be more like side-pairings. I'm focusing on Gale bc he's the main character. There'll be ship moments, sure, but the story revolves around Gale mainly. Just thought to make that clear since I might've misled you in the tags!


End file.
